La Vie En Rose
by diceandpokerchips
Summary: AU. College student Arthur and security guard Eames meet on Twitter, and strike up an unusual friendship that eventually turns into more. Rated M for language. Slash, but no smut.
1. It Starts With One

**Did you miss me? I couldn't stay away. I've had some lovely reviews on The Real Life, which has prompted me to upload faster than I initially intended. Without further ado, here's the first chapter of La Vie En Rose.**

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**Chapter One: It Starts With One**

Professor Saito stood at the front of the lecture hall, ready to inform the class of their assignment. He made no attempt to commandeer the attention of his students; yet the theatre was deathly silent. His reputation preceded him and Saito had the ability and power to garner anyone's respect without trying, even his students. He was truly an excellent teacher.

Arthur and his friends sat in the third row, eager for the assignment. Professor Saito often had unorthodox ways of teaching. Having read up on previous assignments, Arthur couldn't wait to see what he had in store for them. He'd noticed that there was a regular pattern in Saito's assignments, in the fact that he used unusually small samples to prove his point. Never more than ten people, and usually no more than one. Research reports that would never pass an ethics board in normal circumstances, always received ridiculously high marks. Arthur was under no illusions about it; it was clear Saito was exerting influence somewhere, but the fact that he was also an excellent teacher contributed to his students' excellent grades.

"For the last few weeks, we have been looking at social interactions with strangers in great depth. In order to complete your final assignment, you must each participate in some research based around that topic." Saito's voice was no louder than a murmur, but there was no doubt that everyone in the room caught every word.

"I have taken the liberty of presuming that each of you has an account on at least _one _social networking site?" He paused, giving his students the opportunity to object. No one did. "I want you all to use it to search forone person. A total stranger. Perhaps a friend of a friend, but someone that you've never personally interacted with. I would like you to send a message to them, asking them to complete a small questionnaire, compiled of irrelevant data." He paused again, his eyes gleaming. "The point of the research is to see how many of you will receive a response; the questionnaire itself is irrelevant. I do not expect more than two or three of you to find a willing participant. Our next class is on Friday morning. I feel that two days is sufficient time for you to complete this task. Class dismissed."

Arthur stood, sliding his notebook into his bag as he waited for his friends. Ariadne approached him eagerly, her eyes bright with excitement.

"What do you think, Arthur?" She gushed. "Wouldn't it be awesome if one of us got a reply?"

Arthur shrugged, pulling on his jacket. "There are 153 people in this class; it's statistically unlikely that one of _us_ will get a response. If anyone actually does."

Ariadne frowned at Arthur's words and then beamed, dismissing his scepticism. "We have as much chance as anyone else."

"That's the spirit, Ariadne." Dom said, from behind her. Mal smiled affectionately at her boyfriend. Ariadne punched him in the arm good-naturedly, and they made their way out of the lecture theatre, discussing the assignment.

"Are you going to ask Yusuf to help you send a message?" Mal asked Ariadne. Yusuf was Ariadne's boyfriend and the fifth musketeer to their friendship. It had taken Arthur a little while to warm up to him, but that was through no fault of Yusuf's.

Outside the Sociology building, Arthur spotted Nash leaning against the wall, staring at him. As they drew closer Nash opened his mouth, as if to speak, but a fierce hiss from Mal and equally ferocious glares from Dom and Ariadne sent him scuttling away quickly.

Arthur smiled gratefully at his friends, knowing they had his back. He watched Nash disappear around the corner and sighed in relief. While Arthur no longer felt any bitterness towards Nash, he had no desire for any direct contact with him either. Nash was his ex-boyfriend. They'd dated for a long time, breaking up just over a year ago, when Arthur walked in on him fucking Robert Fischer, a business student. Arthur had loved Nash, just a little bit, so the betrayal had hit him hard. When his friends had found out, it was clear to everyone who knew them that furious didn't even come close. A few threats from Dom had kept Nash coming from with one hundred feet of Arthur, and some devious scheming from Mal and Ariadne had ensured Maurice Fischer had transferred Robert to a different college by the end of the week. It had made things easier, but couldn't make it better.

In the aftermath of the break up, Arthur had recognised his naivety. He began to isolate himself; refusing to speak to anyone outside of his social circle. Assuming it was a direct influence of being publicly humiliated by Nash, none of Arthur's friends questioned it. It wasn't until Ariadne began dating Yusuf that they realised the problem ran deeper.

They had a movie night, every Thursday. Each week, the four of them would take turns picking a movie and they would watch it together, usually in Ariadne's room, as hers was the biggest and most central. One week, Ariadne had invited Yusuf. Arthur had blanched every time Yusuf had spoken to him, and felt extremely uncomfortable. He'd left early and avoided everyone until Monday morning. Ariadne had been hurt by Arthur's coldness, and had stopped seeing Yusuf, in order to do right by her friend. When Arthur had found out, he'd located Yusuf's e-mail address and explained everything. They'd interacted solely by e-mail for a few months, before Arthur hesitantly invited him to the next movie night. This time, he warmed to Yusuf instantly, and they'd had no more problems.

Unfortunately for Arthur, he still had the same issue with every other male. He refused to respond when asked on dates, and wouldn't interact with anyone in lessons.

As if Mal knew what he'd been thinking, she placed her hand on Arthur's arm.

"How will this assignment affect you, Arthur?"

Arthur frowned. "I think it'll be fine. It's only one message and I'm usually fine as long as it's not face-to-face."

Mal smiled, sadly, worried that her friend might never overcome his trust issues. Arthur looked away uncomfortably, waiting until Mal had her attention elsewhere before he was able to look back.

"Arthur, aren't you supposed to work tonight?" Ariadne asked.

Arthur checked his watch. "Yeah, in about ten minutes. I'll see you tomorrow for movie night. It's your turn." He told her. He waved goodbye to his friends, and headed for the District Library on the corner.

"Afternoon, Arthur." His boss, Stephen Miles greeted him as he walked into the staff room. He was Mal's father, but neither of them had recognised the other's connection to Mal until Arthur had been working there for nearly six months.

"Good afternoon, Mr Miles." Arthur inclined his head respectfully. He dropped his bag next to his regular chair and took a seat at the computer, scrolling through the list of overdue books. Stephen smiled, and left him to it. He'd hired Arthur due to his efficiency and his passion for books, and neither had diminished. Arthur loved his job. It was perfect for him, at least until he finished college. He was mostly left to his own devices: cataloguing new books; issuing late reminders; and sorting through reserved items. With the exception of a limited interaction with Stephen, he wasn't required to communicate outright with anyone. And he loved the District Library. It was always so warm and Arthur thrived on the smell of old, worn, loved books. Quite often he finished his work twenty minutes before his shift ended and would sit with his nose buried in a book, both literally and figuratively.

Tonight went exactly the same. A hand on his shoulder brought Arthur out of the world of Alagaesia and back to reality. He looked up to find Miles smiling down at him.

"I'm locking up now, Arthur. See you on Friday."

Arthur smiled as he walked across campus to his room. He had a single, so he didn't have to worry about disturbing anyone. Letting himself in, he dropped his bag and shed his jacket, wanting nothing more than to grab a sandwich and head off to bed, and he intended to do just that. He reached for a plate, when his phone chimed, distracting him.

**11.04pm Ariadne**

**I just sent my message and questionnaire. How was work?**

Arthur frowned, all previous plans forgotten as he remembered his assignment. He felt ridiculous, singling out a complete stranger to send a questionnaire to, knowing they wouldn't respond.

"It'll be someone whose profile picture is hot, or someone half-naked who'll get the reply." Arthur thought, scowling. He tapped out a quick reply to Ariadne.

**11.06pm Arthur**

**Same as ever. I'm writing mine now, what have you said?**

The reply pinged back just as his laptop was starting up.

**11.07pm Ariadne**

**That would be influencing the results, wouldn't it? It needs to be your own words.**

Arthur pursed his lips and didn't respond, even knowing she was right. He logged into Twitter and paused.

"How the fuck would I even begin to pick someone from this?" He frowned.

He found Yusuf's page, reasoning he would try using degrees of separation. Scrolling to Yusuf's followers, he clicked one with an intriguing name, _forgewithstyle_, opening the profile in a new tab. His mouth went dry as the profile loaded. Apparently the page belonged to an 'Eames'; no surname provided and he was the most beautiful person Arthur had ever seen, with messy hair, stubble, and grey eyes that looked like they could see right into Arthur's soul. His mouse hovered over the button reading 'Send Direct Message', but he hesitated.

"I am _not_ going to message him just because he's attractive." He scolded himself. "But oh God, those lips."

He clicked back to Yusuf's page, but left the tab with Eames' profile open. After a further half an hour of trying, in vain, to find pick someone to message, Arthur bit the bullet and sent Yusuf a text.

**11.42 Arthur**

**If you're still awake, call me.**

A few seconds later, his phone rang, the opening notes of Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien echoing around his room. He answered it promptly.

"Hey, what can I do for you?" Yusuf's constant grin was evident even down the phone.

Arthur hesitated. "Has Ariadne told you about our Sociology assignment?" He asked.

"Sure." Yusuf sounded surprised. "Message a random stranger, right? What does that have to do with me?"

Arthur bit his lip. "I was trying a few degrees of separation, but got lazy. I went through your profile and found _forgewithstyle_."

"Eames?" Yusuf cut him off, his tone excited. "What about him? Are you sending your message to him?"

"I just want to make sure he's not a student here, or someone I'm ever likely to meet." Arthur explained. "It _does _need to be a stranger."

Yusuf laughed. "No worries about that, Arthur. I met Eames during my exchange year. He's British. I wouldn't count on a reply though."

Arthur chuckled slightly. "I wasn't anyway. Thanks for the help. You still on for tomorrow?"

"Yeah, movies night? It's Ariadne's turn, which means it'll be interesting. Night Arthur."

"Goodnight." He hung up. There was another moment of hesitation which only served to strengthen his resolve. He clicked the option to send Eames a direct message.

_**Mr Eames,**_

_**My college sociology report requires some research; if you have some time, I'd like to ask you some questions.**_

_**Arthur**_

He cursed at the character limit, realising he was coming across a lot more blunt and less smooth than he was used to. Knowing there was nothing he could do about it, and not expecting a reply anyway, he clicked send, and then switched off his laptop. Deciding he'd rather go to bed than eat, he fired off a text before undressing.

**11.59pm Arthur**

**How did you get around the character limit?**

His phone buzzed a reply. Arthur slipped under the covers and reached for his phone.

**12.02am Ariadne**

**Character limit? You used Twitter? I used Facebook, much easier.**

Arthur rolled his eyes, and turned over, falling asleep almost instantly.

The next day he forgot all about the message he'd sent to _forgewithstyle_ until he got to Ariadne's for their movie night. She'd pick Beetlejuice, to no-one's surprise. It was no secret that Ariadne was a huge lover of Tim Burton movies.

Arthur sat on the floor in front of the TV, tapping out an e-mail on his phone to the campus library. He had some books due back that he needed to keep out a little longer, so he was applying to renew them. He'd just sent it when Yusuf struggled in with some heavy bags. Arthur set his phone down and scrambled to help.

"What the fuck is in these things?" Arthur gasped as he hoisted the extremely heavy bag on to the bench.

"Beer, my friend." Yusuf puffed his cheeks proudly. "There are benefits to being twenty-one."

Arthur sighed but didn't comment on the fact that Yusuf was the only one legally allowed to drink it, and that Ariadne would be evicted from her dorm if they were caught, knowing that it would be futile. Everyone was likely to drink it anyway, regardless of the rules. He threw a bag of popcorn at Yusuf's head, but the chemist student caught it deftly. Ariadne entered the room, having retrieved her copy of Beetlejuice. On the way to the DVD player, Arthur's phone buzzed, signalling an e-mail. Ariadne picked it up as Yusuf went to answer the door.

"You've got an e-mail from Twitter, Arthur. Apparently a _forgewithstyle_ has sent you a direct message."

The phone buzzed again, as Arthur stared at Ariadne in disbelief, rendered speechless. Oblivious to his amazement, Ariadne opened the new mail.

"Oh, he's following you now. Who is he, Arthur?"

"Who's who?" Yusuf entered the room, Mal and Dom in tow.

"A _forgewithstyle_ has sent Arthur a message on Twitter." Yusuf turned to Arthur, eyes wide in shock.

"_Eames_ has sent you a reply? What in the hell did you say that piqued his interest?"

Arthur shrugged, baffled. "Is this Eames anti-social? Why is it a big deal that he replied?"

Dom blinked. "Have you been flirting with one of Yusuf's friends?" He asked, surprised. Arthur stared at him in horror.

"Fucking hell, no! He was the stranger I messaged for the Sociology assignment."

Ariadne gasped. "You mean you got a reply?!"

Arthur nodded slowly. "Look, it's no big deal. I haven't even read it yet; it could say that he's too busy to take part."

Ariadne visibly deflated, and everyone dropped the subject in favour of debating the pros and cons of Tim Burton using exactly the same cast in all of his films. Arthur felt himself being sucked into the argument.

"It shows a lack of imagination that he completely disregards better actors in order to cast his best friend and his fiancée in all of his films." He argued.

"And how do you know he doesn't write the roles specifically _for_ Johnny Depp?" Ariadne pointed out.

Arthur shrugged. "Well if he did, then he can get away with it. But some of the others roles could be cast much better."

Mal raised a perfectly shaped brow. "Coming from the man who went to see Dark Shadows six times?"

Arthur frowned, defensively. "I never claimed not to like his films. I just think that anyone could have played the part of Dr Hoffman, and some much better than Helena Bonham Carter."

After their friendly debate, Ariadne put the movie on and they all settled in their usual seats to watch it; Mal and Dom curled up on the floor, and Yusuf and Ariadne on the sofa. Arthur was in the armchair, silently watching the movie. He'd seen Beetlejuice before, so he allowed his attention to wander. Around twenty minutes in, his phone buzzed again. He looked at it to find that Eames had sent him another message.

He glanced up to see that everyone was engrossed in the movie, so he opened Twitter to read the messages.

_**Hi Arthur,**_

_**Happy to help, send me the questions.**_

_**Eames**_

Arthur kept his expression neutral, but was pleased that he'd gotten a reply. He glanced at the second message.

_**The 'Mr' is unnecessary ;) American college, or English?**_

Arthur frowned at the brazen cheek. There was nothing he hated more than typed emoticons. And the personal questions annoyed him more than it should, considering the questionnaire required a few personal details from Eames. He tapped out a reply coldly.

_**Eames,**_

_**American. British University I guess. I'll send you the questions when I get home.**_

_**Arthur**_

He slid his phone away, not expecting to hear any more from Eames until he got home. He was therefore surprised when his phone buzzed again.

_**Arthur**_

_**Can I ask what your assignment is on?**_

_**Eames**_

Arthur was taken aback, having expected Eames would just fill in the questionnaire, not caring what it was for. He supposed it wasn't unreasonable for him to be curious was to what his personal information would be used for. He sent back a quick reply.

_**Social networking and interaction with strangers. All info is kept private.**_

He didn't bother putting his phone away this time. It was clear that Eames was intent on having a conversation before sharing any details. And really, Arthur thought, there isn't any harm in obliging. It was intriguing to say the least. Engrossed in the conversation, Arthur didn't realise that everyone had noticed his lack of attention to the movie, and was exchanging glances.

_**That's not what I meant. What's the assignment title?**_

Before Arthur could reply, Eames had sent another message.

_**I did a little Sociology at college, curious to know what I missed.**_

Arthur glanced up, to see everyone staring at him. He blushed furiously and pocketed his phone.

"Sorry." He mumbled.

Dom took pity on him. "Don't worry about it Arthur, we all know how much work you put into assignments. If you want to leave and get Eames to fill in the questionnaire, we won't mind."

Arthur shook his head. He wasn't the type to bail on his friends for a simple assignment, even if it meant talking to Eames. He watched the rest of the film in silence, but once it finished, he got to his feet hastily. "Does anyone mind if I head home? I need to send this before tomorrow."

Ariadne pouted, but nodded. Arthur grabbed his bag and left quickly, his phone in his hand before he'd left the dorm. It wasn't that he was rushing off so he could talk to Eames more, he told himself, it was to get a head start on the assignment, and really, watching a movie again that he'd already seen around thirty times was monotonous to say the least. Luckily, he just lived across the campus from Ariadne, so he was home in a few minutes. He'd just got in the door when his phone buzzed. He snatched it up eagerly, feeling slightly disappointed when he saw it was a text from Ariadne.

**10:17pm Ariadne**

**I want details since you bailed on me. Your turn next week. What are we watching?**

Arthur rolled his eyes, but replied dutifully before switching his laptop on.

**10:18pm Arthur**

**Reservoir Dogs. Sorry about having to rush. Will buy you lunch tomorrow?**

Ariadne's response was slow, but scathing.

**10:32pm Ariadne**

**Not good enough. Details, tomorrow. Or else.**

Arthur shook his head, but was used to Ariadne's demand for gossip. Opening a browser, he quickly logged into Twitter and replied to Eames' message.

_**Our professor is odd. Probably v. different from England.**_

Arthur paused, then sent another message.

_**I'm home now if you have time to fill in the questionnaire?**_

Eames pinged a reply back immediately, and Arthur opened it quickly to read his acquiescence. He was eager to send and find out the results of the questionnaire. His hand hovered over the keyboard as he remembered Professor Saito had told him the point of the exercise was to see how many of them received a reply. Uncertainty struck him as he realised that he no longer had a reason to continue talking to Eames. He tapped out a message to Ariadne, looking for advice.

**10.47pm Arthur**

**I didn't need to leave after all. I'd forgotten the questionnaire was just an excuse to see if we would get a reply.**

Ariadne replied back instantly, the speed of her reply surprising Arthur. She was normally quite quick at texting, but a reply within twenty seconds was good, even for her.

**10.47pm Ariadne**

**You're going to look like a creep if you don't though. I'd send it anyway.**

She had a point; he'd asked for Eames to complete a questionnaire for his Sociology assignment. If he then didn't send him a questionnaire, it would look quite weird. It couldn't do any harm to send it anyway, and if he was being brutally honest, Eames had piqued his interest. From Yusuf's reaction to the fact that Eames had actually given him the time of day, Arthur was mildly fascinated to find out a little more about the other boy.

Shrugging, he made his decision and tapped out the first question. He frowned at the character limit, realising he would have to reword the sentence. He tapped out a quick message to Eames to explain his delay.

_**Character limit means I'll have to reword the questions. Sorry for delay.**_

After rewording the first few questions, he looked up and saw Eames had replied. His brow furrowed as he read the message.

_**If it's easier, you can e-mail me.**_

He'd also supplied his e-mail address, helpfully. Arthur considered it. He didn't really want to hand out his e-mail address, but he did want to continue the conversation with Eames. But he didn't know him from Adam; he could be a psycho! On the other hand, Yusuf knew him, and if the chemistry student trusted him, then there was no reason Arthur couldn't.

A few clicks later, and he'd opened a blank e-mail.

_**Eames,**_

_**Thanks for agreeing to take part. There are ten questions.**_

_**The first is 'Describe yourself using no more than fifty words, including your likes, dislikes and goals.'**_

_**Arthur**_

He got a reply a minute later, not soon enough for Eames to have written anything substantial. Nevertheless, Arthur opened the e-mail and read its contents.

_**Arthur,**_

_**You're welcome.**_

_**I'll answer your questions as long as you return the favour.**_

_**Eames.**_

Arthur frowned and tapped out a reply. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. It was becoming clear that he'd picked the most irritating person alive to correspond with. Next time, he would fake a result.

_**Eames,**_

_**That's not how it works.**_

_**Besides, why do you even want to know?**_

_**Arthur**_

This time, the reply took a little longer, so Arthur waited impatiently for it to ping through. When it did, he was pleasantly surprised.

_**Arthur,**_

_**I'm giving out details about myself to a total stranger. Humour me.**_

_**You're very … interesting, for lack of a better term. You intrigue me and make me want to know more.**_

_**Eames**_

Arthur stared at the page for a few minutes, reading and rereading the last line. He completely understood where Eames was coming from, having felt the same thing himself. He just hadn't considered that Eames might consider him equally as intriguing. Arthur was shy and socially inept, but he didn't suffer from low self-esteem. He knew his good qualities and his bad, but he didn't understand what could make him interesting to someone who didn't know him. Shrugging, he typed his reply. It was just a conversation. As long as he didn't give out any personal details, there could be no harm done.

_**Eames,**_

_**Fine. If I deem your response satisfactory, I'll reply.**_

_**Thank you, I guess. In all honesty, I'd also consider you intriguing.**_

_**Will you please answer the question now?**_

_**Arthur**_

While waiting for Eames to reply, Arthur, chewing his pen in a rare display of discomposure, began his end of their agreement and began scribbling down his own response. After a few minutes, he realised how difficult it was to describe himself when he was nothing remotely special. He decided to base his answer on what Eames said about himself. When the email pinged through, he clicked it open.

_**Arthur,**_

_**I'm Eames, 22, from London. I did Sociology and Drama at college, and dropped out after one year. I enjoy playing cards, **__**English**__**football, tea and I occasionally prefer being alone. My job is illegal, and I smoke when upset. I can cook, but can't spell. Also, I'm gay.**_

_**I hope this is 'satisfactory' enough to receive a reply :)**_

_**Eames**_

Arthur stared at his laptop for the second time that night, totally thrown by Eames' e-mail. The boy seemed to have more depth than Arthur had previously given him credit for. And not only was he sinfully handsome, he was also gay. Thoughts of Nash and Robert Fischer swam in front of his eyes and Arthur pushed them away, focusing on the e-mail. Even if he _was_ ready to start seeing someone, it would most definitely not be Eames, who was two years older than him and whose profession was, by his own admittance, illegal. In any case, why would he even look at someone like Arthur, who was for all intents and purposes, just a student with too much baggage. No, once this questionnaire was complete, Arthur fully intended to sever all ties with Eames and go back to his everyday routine. He knew that _forgewithstyle_ would be trouble for him if he was presented with the opportunity. So Arthur couldn't and wouldn't give him the chance.

His fingers returned to the keyboard and he began his reply, knowing it would bring the end of the conversation that much closer.

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**Hope you all liked it. Review make me work faster, as proved above, so please send me your thoughts! Love you all! DeeperDreams**


	2. All Animals Are Equal

**Here's chapter two, the chapter title of course comes from George Orwell's Animal Farm, which I just finished reading last week. It does have a relevance to the chapter, so bear with me for now. Special thanks to everyone who reviewed, including XxrockyxX, who never fails to lift my spirits. Hope you enjoy the chapter.**

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**Chapter Two: All Animals Are Equal**

The next morning was a little more hectic than Arthur was used to. Usually, he had a strict routine he adhered to, but that morning, everything was chaotic. It started when he slept in, almost missing his first lecture.

"The fuck?" Arthur gasped as he saw the time. He dived up, dressing hurriedly. He'd have to shower in his free period. He pulled a crisp white shirt out of his drawer, and a grey tie. Grey trousers followed suit, and a woolly jumper. Arthur hadn't intended to sport this look, but he'd had a job interview on the first day of college and had to attend his classes in smart attire. Everyone had noticed, and it became Arthur's signature look.

He donned his shoes and grabbed his bag, running across campus to ensure he got to his lecture on time. He made it with minutes to spare. Ariadne, Dom and Mal gaped at his red face and dishevelled hair.

"Don't even ask." Arthur muttered, irritably. "I slept in, that's all."

He dropped into his seat, refusing to make eye contact with any of them in the hopes that they would drop the subject. Of course, he had no such luck.

"Did you have a late night, mon ami?" Mal asked, concerned. Arthur closed his eyes and waited for Ariadne's explosion. She didn't disappoint.

"You were up talking to Eames all night!" She accused. Arthur sighed, patiently.

"Generally, the phrase 'slept in' requires that the aforementioned party actually did get some sleep, Ariadne. I did _not_ stay up all night, however, I _was _up late. All right?"

"But were you talking to Eames." Ariadne countered. "Don't try and avoid the question, Arthur."

Luckily, Arthur was saved from answering due to Professor Saito's arrival. Ariadne didn't whisper again. The room fell silent and Saito wasted no time in beginning.

"I trust you have all found the time to complete the task I set you." It wasn't a question, but Saito waited for anyone to contradict him. When no-one did, he straightened himself up. "Excellent. Now, by a show of hands, how many of you received a response?"

Arthur raised his hand and winced as all heads turned in his direction. He kept his eyes fixed firmly forward. Saito raised an eyebrow as he glanced around the room before his gaze settled on Arthur. "Just you, Mr Levine?"

Arthur blinked in surprise. Saito had never addressed him personally, although it shouldn't be a surprise that his lecturer knew his name. What should have been a surprise, and actually was, was that out of a class of 153 students, Arthur was the only one to receive a reply.

"Yes, sir." Arthur murmured, quietly. He wasn't fond of being the centre of attention. Saito nodded, approvingly.

"Excellent." Saito repeated. "Now we can begin with the assignment. We have a sample of 153 people, and only one response. That is the result of our research. I have here your assignment title." He gestured to the whiteboard.

Arthur opened his notebook and began writing down the title in his neat, flawless script.

"Mr Levine." Saito called up. Arthur's glanced up and he paused his writing. "I'm afraid your essay title will differ slightly. Your assignment must focus on why you _did_ receive a response, rather than why you didn't."

Arthur inclined his head respectfully, signalling his understanding. His earlier embarrassment was forgotten, he'd been fascinated by Saito's unorthodox assignment. And now, he'd been given his own unique assignment. He flashed a grin at his friends. Ariadne gave him a thumbs up and Dom and Mal flashed him a grin, before Saito commanded them all to get to work.

Arthur made a good start on his assignment by the time the end of the lecture came. He neatly tucked his paper away, along with the transcript of his conversation with Eames – the reason he'd overslept. Ariadne leaned over and tried to snatch the folder, but Arthur was too quick and moved it out of her reach, sliding it into his bag. He glared at her; his expression one of true anger, rather than the usual irritation he felt towards Ariadne's prying. She recoiled quickly.

"Ari," Arthur began quietly, his low voice signalling his anger. "I share everything with you. I don't keep secrets from you. Trust that I will tell you about last night in my own time, rather than trying to invade my privacy."

Ariadne looked ashamed, and dropped her gaze, shuffling over to Dom and Mal, who admonished her for her intrusive behaviour.

"Sorry, Arthur." She murmured. Arthur took pity on her and smiled.

"Forget about it. We'll meet at lunch, yeah?"

She nodded, cheering up and Arthur left. It was his free period, so he headed back across campus to have a shower before his next class. After Eames had completed the questionnaire, he copied up a transcript of their entire conversation, keeping him up till 3am; the reason he'd overslept in the first place. While the fact that he'd conversed with Eames was no secret to his friends, Arthur felt strangely private about what they'd discussed. It's not that he didn't want to tell Ariadne. It's that he wasn't ready to share details with anyone yet.

Under the hot spray of his shower, Arthur reflected on Eames' response to the final question he'd asked Eames last night. The answer which had totally thrown him and made him rethink his decision to cut off contact with him once the assignment was up.

_**Eames,**_

_**Last question.**_

_**Consider the fact that you were contacted by a complete stranger. What made you reply to the message?**_

_**I must admit, I'm curious to know your answer myself from what Yusuf has mentioned.**_

_**Arthur**_

Arthur had waited nervously for Eames' response, unable to distract himself by writing his own answer, as this question didn't apply to him. Eames had taken an infuriatingly long time to reply, and Arthur had made a cup of coffee and returned to the laptop before Eames' e-mail had pinged through.

_**Arthur,**_

_**Honestly? I have no idea. It was a number of factors: based on your picture, the fact that I had previously studied Sociology, your typing style.**_

_**I'm also naturally suspicious. I wanted to see if you were genuine.**_

_**Since you can't answer this question in return, I reserve the right to ask a different one: what made you choose me?**_

_**Eames**_

Arthur froze. He couldn't exactly admit that he'd chosen Eames purely because he was good-looking, could he? It made him seem shallow, and might give Eames the wrong sort of impression; that Arthur was interested in something he wasn't.

He blinked and began to type his reply.

_**Eames,**_

_**What about my picture and typing style? I'm curious.**_

_**So what did you conclude about my authenticity then?**_

_**I have to hand in my research tomorrow, see how many people got a reply. I can send you a message and let you know how it goes if you like?**_

_**Arthur**_

He hadn't been brave enough to answer the question; instead he'd left Eames with a choice. If he wanted to talk to Arthur again, all he had to do was feign an interest in the assignment. This time, Eames replied quickly.

_**Arthur,**_

_**Don't take this the wrong way. You're gorgeous. It's probably shallow that I decided to reply partly based on the fact that you're good looking, but there you go.**_

_**Also, your writing style is curt, cutting and very precise, yet your profile picture shows you looking relaxed and friendly. The contrast intrigued me.**_

_**I came to the conclusion that you're telling the truth. Either that, or you're very well versed, and you must be a hell of a researcher.**_

_**You know Yusuf?! Is that why you chose to message me?**_

_**I'd like to hear about your assignment, but is hearing more about you off the cards?**_

_**Eames**_

From the beginning of Eames' e-mail, Arthur had blushed a vivid shade of red. The other boy thought he was gorgeous? It said a lot for Eames' sincerity that he could openly admit to replying to Arthur's message because he thought he was good-looking. Arthur felt better about his reasons for choosing Eames in the first place.

He considered his writing style and couldn't disagree, he was curt and precise, but it wasn't intentional. He just preferred not to mince his words and get straight to the point. That way, there was a slim chance of misunderstandings. He couldn't see the contrast between his writing style and his Twitter profile picture, though. Eames must have been able to see more objectively as to whether Arthur seemed approachable or not.

He was amused that Eames had him spot on. While he was genuinely a Sociology student; he was also one hell of a researcher. He had no interest in making a career in Sociology after he finished college; but it gave him practice in researching, as well as the fact that Arthur couldn't pass up the opportunity to take Saito's course.

Arthur paused at the next line of the e-mail. Here was his perfect opportunity to deny that he chose Eames mostly based on his looks. But he found that he was unwilling to lie. If Eames could own up, then so could he.

_**Eames,**_

_**Compliment accepted. I fail to see where you're coming from in regards to my looks, or the contrast with my 'curt' writing style, which I cannot deny is rather precise, but thank you nonetheless.**_

_**I'm glad you don't doubt my honesty, although my ability to research is currently unrivalled.**_

_**Yusuf is dating one of my best friends. While I did confer with him before messaging you, I must admit he is not the reason I chose you. My reasons are varied, but in short are very similar to yours.**_

_**I'm going to head off to bed now, it is almost 2am here, and I have class at 9am. I'll message you tomorrow and tell you more about the assignment.**_

_**Arthur**_

After sending the e-mail, Arthur paused and sent another one, finally making his decision whether or not to continue his acquaintance with Eames.

_**Eames,**_

_**If you want to know more about me I'm happy to oblige, but I promise you there's not much to know. I'm pretty boring.**_

_**Good night.**_

_**Arthur**_

Eames' reply was long, and didn't come through until Arthur was almost finished his transcript, nearly an hour after Arthur's last message.

_**Arthur,**_

_**Don't doubt yourself. You are exceedingly gorgeous. And very cutting.**_

_**When you tell me your research skills are unrivalled, I can believe you. You seem like the kind of person who doesn't do things by half-measures.**_

_**Whatever Yusuf told you is a lie ;) I'm a wonderful person.**_

_**Did you just call me good looking? That was almost a compliment from your sharp tongue. Well, fingers I suppose, but that doesn't have the same ring to it.**_

_**Good night Arthur, I hope you sleep well :)**_

_**P.S. I think it's been established that I find you intriguing. You could spend your life watching paint dry and I'd be fascinated by the colours.**_

_**Eames**_

Even now, Arthur couldn't help but soften at the postscript. It was soppy and altogether too familiar for someone he just met, yet he couldn't help but understand. Eames was a mystery to him; one that he wanted to solve so much.

He stepped out of the shower, towelling off and dressing quickly. His musing had taken up more time than he'd thought, and he had to head off for his next class or he'd be late. When he got there, however, his lecture had been cancelled; due to sleeping in, Arthur hadn't checked his e-mails. Sighing, he pulled out his headphones and sat on the grass outside of the psychology building, waiting for his friends to come out. He flicked through his iPod, before settling on Regina Spektor. Arthur admired her piano skills and there wasn't a song she'd recorded that he didn't love.

He hummed along with 'All The Rowboats' as he began working on his Sociology assignment. He'd already researched everything he needed, so it was just a case of writing the assignment and working in the references. Lost in his notes, he didn't look up till a shadow fell across his notebook. He looked up impatiently, and his expression dropped.

"What do you want?" He sighed, flipping his notebook closed and removing his headphones. When he didn't receive a reply, he stood up to walk away.

"No, wait." Nash said, reaching for Arthur's arm. Arthur flinched and stepped out of reach. He didn't think he could handle Nash touching him.

"What do you want?" Arthur repeated. Nash bowed his head.

"I want to apologise. I never meant things to end like that. Fischer was a mistake."

Arthur nodded. "I forgave you a long time ago, Nash. But it doesn't mean I want to be around you."

Nash's face fell. "Arthur, I made a mistake, but my feelings for you haven't changed."

Arthur's jaw dropped, incredulous. "Are you fucking kidding me? You_ cheated_ on me! What do you expect, you can come back after a year and I'll just forget it ever happened? I'm not interested any more. As far as I'm concerned, you blew it. Now, will you go so I can get on with my work?"

Nash opened his mouth to argue, but a cold voice stopped him. "Have you forgotten our discussion already Nash? Do not come within a hundred feet of Arthur. Now move, or I'll ensure your snivelling face can never be recognised again."

Nash scuttled off, fearfully, and Arthur turned to Dom gratefully, who was accompanied by Mal and Ariadne, each sporting furious expressions.

"Can you believe the nerve of that _fils de pute_?" Mal swore. Arthur, who was the only other of their group who was fluent in French, let out a snort.

"Forget it." He shook his head. "He's not even worth mentioning. How was Cognitive Psychology?"

On the way to the cafe across campus they occasionally frequented, Ariadne chatted to him about how interesting time sensation was, and Arthur nodded and listened, fascinated by any extra information. He liked hearing about the classes he didn't take; there was no such thing as knowing too much. By the time they arrived, Arthur was satisfied he knew enough about time sensation to write a decent paper on it.

He paid for a sandwich and a bottle of water and took his usual seat. The others joined him quickly, chatting about cognitive psychology. Eventually, the talk turned to their other classes, and eventually reached the Sociology assignment. Ariadne stayed quiet, ashamed of her earlier behaviour. Arthur coaxed her into the joining in, and she eventually asked to look at his assignment, curious as to the alternative view.

Arthur didn't hesitate. "I'm having issues with one of the paragraphs, actually. I don't know if it's too negative, when I'm supposed to be impartial."

Mal joined in. "Read us what you have, and see if we can help in any way?"

Arthur nodded. "Okay. _In respect to the above extract from the stranger in question, it appears that the reason a response was given in that circumstances was due to numerous factors, mostly based around the sender. The attractiveness and appeal of the message sender seems to be a crucial factor in the decision-making as to whether the recipient will or will not reply._"

Dom frowned. "You mean Eames only replied because he finds you attractive? It seems a little … I dunno, superficial?"

Arthur shrugged. "That's one of reasons he gave me. Does my viewpoint seem too negative?"

His friends assured him that it was just fine, although Dom kept frowning for the duration of lunch. Arthur resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He was perfectly fine with his best friend looking out for him, but really, he'd messaged Eames for the same reason. There was nothing to worry about.

The rest of the afternoon flew by, and Arthur found himself counting down the minutes till he could e-mail Eames and tell him how that morning's class went. Unfortunately, he also had work to get through first, so he walked the short distance to the library, for the first time not looking forward to the shift.

"Arthur, punctual as usual." Stephen grinned at him. Arthur smiled back, shrugging, and taking his usual seat. There were only two overdue books as opposed to the usual dozen. He raised an eyebrow and pointed it out. Mr Miles chuckled.

"That's because you're so efficient with your letters, Arthur, people are starting to return them on time. I'm afraid there isn't much to do tonight. If you can process the box of new books, then you can go home early."

Arthur's head snapped up. "Are you sure? I can stay if you need me."

Stephen smiled at him. "I know, Arthur, you're the best worker I've had here yet, and I'll be almost sorry to lose you when you graduate. But it really is quiet here tonight. Why not go home and talk to your e-mail friend."

Arthur froze, then sighed and shook his head. "Mal." He muttered. It wasn't a question. Resignedly, he pulled the box of books towards him, and began logging them into the computer system. His boss left him to it, grinning. From what he'd heard, this pen pal sounded exactly like what Arthur needed to pull him out of his comfort zone slightly. The boy was far too reserved; Nash had really changed him. Stephen shook his head. Hopefully this Eames boy would be able to do what Mal, Dom and Ariadne could not.

Arthur finished logging the new books quickly. Before he left, he headed over to Miles.

"I'm done. Are you sure you don't need me to stay?" When Mal shook his head, Arthur bade him goodbye and headed back across campus to his room. Unlocking the door, he dropped his bag and switched the laptop on.

He sent a quick tweet to Eames, to see if he was around and went off to make himself a sandwich. When he came back to the computer, he was pleased to see Eames had replied.

**Eames (forgewithstyle)**

**To: Penrose_Steps yeah I'm here. How was class?**

Arthur replied quickly, giving him the bare minimum of details. He wanted to wait until he didn't have a character limit to tell Eames about how the Sociology lecture went, so he replied back with the generic response to such a question.

**Arthur Levine (Penrose_Steps)**

**To: forgewithstyle: Not bad. How was your day?**

His curiosity was piqued by Eames' response. The other boy had made reference to his career being less than legal, but Arthur hadn't asked.

**Eames (forgewithstyle)**

**To: Penrose_Steps: Okay, I'm at work at the minute. Bloody nightshift.**

Arthur frowned and glanced at his clock. It was only 6pm in Los Angeles, there must be a bigger time difference between there and London that he'd previously thought. He tapped out his reply thoughtfully.

**Arthur Levine (Penrose_Steps)**

**To: forgewithstyle: Nightshift? Didn't realise it was so late in England.**

He briefly wondered if he should ask Eames what he did, but decided against it. If the Englishman wanted to tell him, then he would. He wondered if Eames was joking and he wasn't at work at all.

Eames' reply was slow coming this time, and Arthur waited patiently.

**Eames (forgewithstyle)**

**To: Penrose_Steps: Yeah, it's 2am here. What time is it in LA? I gotta patrol soon, they joys of being a security guard.**

Huh. A security guard wasn't illegal, but Eames' career choice was obviously a touchy subject. Arthur decided to ask the Brit about it. If he didn't want to respond, he wasn't obligated to in any way. It wasn't something he could advertise on Twitter though, so he discreetly sent Eames an e-mail. In case he didn't get it till later, Arthir also replied to the tweet, telling him that it was just after 6pm in LA.

_**Eames,**_

_**A security guard is a legal profession. Unless that's some sort of English slang that I don't recognise. Have you sabotaged my research?**_

_**Arthur**_

He waited patient for a reply, which was quick in coming. Eames must have been expecting it.

**_Arthur,_**

**_A security guard is my legally recognised profession, for all intents and purposes. My real job … well, how do I know you won't sell me out to the Johnny Hoppers?_**

**_Eames_**

Arthur frowned. Johnny Hoppers? What on earth was Eames talking about? He opened Google and ran a quick search. It explained a lot when he realised that 'Johnny Hoppers' was English slang for the cops. Huh.

**_Eames,_**

**_Oh dear, you've caught me out. There was no assignment, I'm just trying to get you to tell me all about your sordid career so that I may place a long distance and possibly expensive call to the police and drop you in it._**

**_Incidentally, why do you call the cops 'Johnny Hoppers'?_**

**_Arthur_**

His response was sarcastic and cutting, but Eames' playful suspicion had made Arthur roll his eyes exasperatedly and deserved a acerbic reply. He was curious about the etymology of the unusual term for police, though.

**_Arthur,_**

**_Well when you put it like that, it does seem silly. But I am a criminal, surely you don't expect me just to tell you?_**

**_To answer your question, I have no idea. It's just Cockney rhyming slang. It's like asking why we call them pigs? It could be because they stereotypically eat donuts and are very lazy, or in response to Animal Farm and Napoleon's secret police. Did your research skills come up blank?_**

**_Eames_**

Arthur stifled a chuckle at the message. Eames never failed to astound him, both with his wit, humour, and how surprisingly educated he was. Animal Farm wasn't something you read unless you were specifically interested in reading. It definitely wasn't in any curriculum he'd ever heard of, so he ruled out that Eames had read it at school.

_**Eames,**_

_**You probably wouldn't be a very good criminal if you did. Are you?**_

_**That explains a lot.**_

_**Have you read Animal Farm? It was my favourite book a few years ago.**_

_**Arthur**_

He'd surprised himself with how easy he had taken the news that Eames was a criminal. While his curiosity was piqued, he didn't ask any questions. It stood to reason that Yusuf would tell him all he knew if he asked. But he didn't want to ask. It wasn't his business, nor was it Yusuf's place to share.

_**Arthur,**_

_**I like to think so.**_

_**Yes, I've read Animal Farm, much preferred it to Nineteen Eighty-Four. Who would you compare yourself to?**_

_**How did your class go anyway?**_

_**Eames**_

Before Arthur could reply, another message came through. He clicked it, eagerly.

_**Arthur,**_

_**Got to dash, I have to do a quick patrol. Be back in an hour if you're still around. If not, message me tomorrow.**_

_**Eames**_

Disappointed, Arthur closed the e-mail. He would reply when Eames got back, but for now he was going to make a start on his architecture blueprint. He was looking forward to telling him about Sociology, and finding out about his unusual username for Twitter.

Fetching a class of water, he sat back down at his computer, immersed in measurements, but his head floating around in the world of Animal Farm. He couldn't help think that he was like Mr Jones, the farmer, and that Eames represented the animals, ready to drive him away from all he knew.

* * *

**Okay, so the layout of the tweets are a bit squiffy, but FF won't let me use the 'at' symbol, so I've had to edit a bit.**

**I'm on holiday next week, so I'll be unable to update, so I'll try and get chapter three up before I go, if not, I promise two chapters when I get back! ****For those of you who are interested, these are actual Twitter accounts, with the usernames mentioned, although they're pretty bare at the minute, but feel free to check them out.**

**Please review, I really appreciate it :)**


	3. Question Everything

**Okay everyone, here's chapter three, which is a bit shorter than the last two. There'll be a bit of a gap between this one and the next, because I'm going on holiday on Tuesday (for two weeks), but I promise I'll work on LVER while I'm away. Hope you enjoy the chapter!**

* * *

**Chapter Three: Question Everything**

Arthur worked on his blueprints for almost an hour, double and triple checking his measurements. While focused on his work, a small part of his brain ran over the familiarity he had with Eames. What had started out as a basic assignment only yesterday, was now a completely different story. While he hadn't spoken to Eames long enough to consider him even an acquaintance, it was easy to see that he enjoyed his brief conversations with the Brit. Eames challenged him, brought him out of his shell and appreciated his intellect. He couldn't see any harm in continuing to converse with Eames.

Moving back to his computer, he saw Eames had just sent him a message.

_**Arthur**_

_**I'm back. Did you get my first e-mail?**_

_**Eames**_

Arthur re-read the first e-mail quickly before replying, thoughtfully.

_**Eames**_

_**Why do you do it? You strike me as intelligent; you could easily get a decent legal job. What makes you do something you could be arrested for?**_

_**I enjoyed Nineteen-Eighty Four, but much preferred Animal Farm. In high school I had to draw comparisons from Brave New World and Nineteen-Eighty Four, it was pretty interesting. What didn't you like about it?**_

_**I think I'd compare myself to Benjamin. He's sceptical and pessimistic, and I like to think I can see when things are going badly. How about you?**_

_**My class went great. No one else got a reply, so I was given an individual assignment. It was pretty interesting.**_

_**Arthur**_

He'd considered which animal was most like him carefully, looking at each one in term before drawing his conclusion. He was pleased with his response, the donkey was the most level headed character in Animal Farm, and didn't involve himself with the politics.

He'd told Eames the truth though. From what he'd found out, Arthur did consider him to be intelligent, and he'd already admitted he'd tried studying after high school, so it was curious that he'd turned to a life a crime. Curiosity was the most Arthur felt though. He wouldn't judge, because he had no idea of Eames' circumstances. Eames' response flashed up, dragging him out of his thoughts.

_**Arthur,**_

_**That's an interesting question. Most people generally ask what it is I do.**_

_**Why, is a long story. Suffice to say, I do it for the reason most people do things. Money. The fact that I'm also excellent at what I do comes in to it.**_

_**I remember that, Neil Postman compared the two novels, talking about how Orwell felt that what we feared would destroy us, and Huxley believed that our desires would be what helped us fall. It seems like Huxley was the more accurate.**_

_**I didn't like the end of Nineteen-Eighty Four. I dislike the idea of repression to start with, and found a kindred spirit in Winston, finding a way to rebel. But then Big Brother won, and the idea that it's unbeatable didn't sit right with me. Everything has a weakness, and anyone who disagrees clearly isn't dreaming big enough.**_

_**Now you mention it, you do remind me of Benjamin. Honestly, I'd compare myself to Napoleon. I'd have no qualms with betraying ideals and letting people deal with the aftermath. I'm not really a very nice person to get to know, because I always let people down, and I mostly mean to.**_

_**Glad your class went well. How is your assignment different?**_

_**Eames**_

It was the longest e-mail Arthur had received from Eames yet. It revealed a lot more depth to the other boy that Arthur had previously thought. Eames cited his reasons for his profession as profit and ability, but his dislike of repression gave away that he didn't like to be tied down, or told how to live. From a psychological point of view, Arthur could infer that Eames' rebelling in society by working illegally was his way of breaking free of whatever was repressing him. Although, he didn't know him anywhere near well enough to form that sort of opinion. There were too many shades of grey. It could all be set in black and white, and Eames just did enjoy whatever it was he did. He clicked reply.

_**Eames,**_

_**Would you answer me if I did?**_

_**Fair enough.**_

_**Yeah, that's right. It seems like a lot of his thoughts have come to pass, although nothing seems to be destroying us yet. Except shit reality shows destroying the IQ of everyone I seem to meet. Present company excluded, of course.**_

_**I agree, everything has a weakness. Perhaps Big Brother did too, but Winston wasn't the one to find it.**_

_**Napoleon didn't see his flaws to be able to point them out, so perhaps you are less like him than you think.**_

_**I have to discuss why I did receive a reply, rather than why I didn't. I'll probably read my friend Ariadne's work when she's done, to make sure I get a complete picture.**_

_**Arthur**_

He sent the message, frowning. Eames had a low opinion of himself, that much was clear. Maybe he was everything he said he was, but Arthur was pretty sure that it wasn't possible for Eames to let him down when he was just an acquaintance.

Eames' reply took quite a long time to come. Arthur was growing impatient when it finally came through.

_**Arthur,**_

_**I don't honestly know. If you asked me, I wouldn't lie. But I think if you were going to, you would have asked by now. Am I wrong?**_

_**I agree. I can't bear any sort of daytime TV. I only really own a TV so I can watch films and sports. I'm glad you think so highly of my IQ :)**_

_**I never thought of it like that. Perhaps I'll give Nineteen Eighty-Four another try, with that in mind, see if my perception of it changes.**_

_**Again, about Napoleon, I never thought of it like that. You've definitely given me a lot of new ways of looking at things tonight, Arthur.**_

_**I've got to dash now. It's the end of my shift and I'm exhausted. It's Saturday tomorrow so I'm not at work. I'll be about, but it'll be afternoon on my end, which will be around twelve hours from now. What time will that be in LA?**_

_**Eames**_

Arthur quickly did the maths. It was four am in London now, so Eames must have finished earlier than the previous day. Around twelve hours would put him to early afternoon, and Arthur to around eight am. Ever the early riser, aside from that morning's hiccup, he was sure to around at that time.

_**Eames,**_

_**That's good to hear. It's pointless lying to me, I can't judge you, but then, I'd never know the difference if you did. Also, yes, I'd have asked by now.**_

_**Let me know if you enjoy it more this time around.**_

_**Glad to be of help.**_

_**Twelve hours will put it at around eight o clock in the morning here. I'll be awake then, I usually am.**_

_**Sleep well.**_

_**Arthur**_

Shutting down his laptop, Arthur picked up his phone. He'd told Ariadne he would tell her about Eames in his own time, and since he needed someone to talk about it with anyway, it seemed the perfect time. As the phone rang, he realised he hadn't asked Eames about his unusual Twitter username. Forgewithstyle… forge with style. Forging? Was that what he did that was so illegal?

"Hey Arthur," Ariadne picked up the phone cheerfully. "Sup?"

Arthur chose his words carefully. "I've just been speaking to Eames."

Her tone changed immediately, eager and excited. "Spill. Tell me everything. What's he like?"

Arthur explained how he'd chosen Eames from Yusuf's twitter page, leaving out the part about the reason he'd chosen him was because of his attractiveness, instead mentioning that he had an unusual username. Ariadne had seen it, and seemed to buy it. He told her about how Eames genuinely seemed interested in talking to him, and since it was online, it was because of his personality and nothing else.

"It's weird, Ari. He seems like he could be exactly what I need. You know that I just can't bring myself to talk to people in person, and talking to him online could be good for me in the long run. And he seems equally as fascinated with me. He told me that I could spend my life watching paint dry and he'd be fascinated by the colours."

Ariadne was silent for a moment. Arthur could almost sense her unease, but waited for her to speak.

"That's great, Arthur. I agree that he could be good for you. But … don't you think it's a bit intense for someone you've only been speaking to for a few days?"

Arthur smiled. "I know what you mean, and I understand your wariness. But you know when you talk to someone and you just get on right away? That's what it's like. Don't worry, Ariadne, there's no harm."

"If you say so." Ariadne said hesitantly. "I know you can look after yourself, Arthur. So, are you planning to speak to him again tomorrow?"

Arthur smiled to himself. "I think so, yeah."

They talked for a while about the assignment, before Ariadne made her excuses. Arthur said good night and returned to his blueprints. He found himself in bed early that night, wanting to get a good night's sleep after his late night the day before. Despite the fact that he'd slept in, he found he was actually quite tired and managed to nod off quickly.

The next day saw Arthur waking at half past six. He went for his usual jog around campus, before returning home to shower. Making himself breakfast consisting of a slice of toast and some orange juice, he sat down at his laptop and opened his Twitter. Eames had sent him a tweet.

**Eames (forgewithstyle)**

**To: Penrose_Steps: Send me an e-mail when you're about :)**

Arthur, pleased that Eames was online, opened an e-mail immediately, and typed out a quick message.

_**Hi Eames,**_

_**Sleep well?**_

_**It's weird saying that knowing its afternoon where you are. Nightshift must make it difficult to socialise. Do you have any plans for tonight?**_

_**Arthur**_

He hadn't considered how much of a strain Eames' job must be on his socialising. Arthur worked three nights a week at the library, and between that and his college work, movie night was often the only night he could see his friends. Eames' reply, however, surprised him.

_**Good morning Arthur :)**_

_**I slept okay thanks. How about you?**_

_**Nightshift makes it difficult, yeah, but my other job makes it impossible. It's not prudent to have friends in my line of work. I don't really interact with anyone socially, except you and Yusuf. You can't be put at risk if I make a mistake.**_

_**That said; my plans for tonight involve talking to you until you get sick of me. How about you?**_

_**Eames**_

He couldn't even imagine what it must be like, to have no friends to hang out with. Arthur relied on his friends; without them, he'd go mad. He made up his mind that he would make a regular effort to contact Eames, to ensure he wasn't feeling lonely. Even though Eames' job was his choice, that didn't mean he was happy with the loneliness it surely brought. Nobody liked being alone all of the time.

_**Eames,**_

_**Yeah, I slept fine. Woke up a little earlier and went for a run.**_

_**That must be lonely. I don't think I could handle not having anyone to talk to.**_

_**I don't think I'll be sick of you any time soon, although considering my plans match your own, I expect you'll be sick of me.**_

_**Arthur**_

He grinned. He definitely wouldn't be sick of Eames in the foreseeable future. Arthur really appreciated having someone to talk to about his interests. As interested as Ariadne and Dom were in what Arthur had recently read, they would never read themselves and Arthur longed for someone who had read the same things as him. He'd found that Eames had varied interests, including reading, and he seemed enormously well read. It wasn't just their similar interests; it was that their personalities mixed well. Arthur found a kinship in Eames he hadn't expected. When Eames' reply came through, Arthur opened it swiftly.

_**Arthur,**_

_**It's not so lonely. I can still crack jokes with the other security guards, and I keep up with old friends by telephone. I just can't risk seeing anyone.**_

_**I won't get sick of you. Your conversation has become the highlight of my day since we started talking. You come across so abrupt, I expected you to just stop reply after the questionnaire. Of course, you're friendlier now.**_

_**I meant to ask about your username anyway. Why Penrose_Steps? I much preferred the triangle, personally.**_

_**Eames**_

Arthur read through the e-mail, a permanent smile etched on his face. He knew his abrupt personality was often a deterrent, which had only been useful since Nash had left him unable to talk to anyone. The way he saw it, anyone who was worth talking to would be able to see past Arthur's curt attitude and realise that it was how he was, and didn't actually mean to put people off. It just made him all the more happy that Eames had been patient enough to reply and get to know him.

_**Eames,**_

_**Still, it's made me realise how much I take my friends for granted. I only have a few close friends, but they mean a lot to me.**_

_**Honestly, I don't mean to be as rude as I come across, once you get used to my sharp tongue, you barely notice it. **_

_**I did intend to stop replying after you'd finished the questionnaire, but your honesty and the ease of the conversation changed my mind.**_

_**It's odd, but I minor in architecture. I major in Sociology. I've always found paradoxical architecture fascinating, hence my username referring to the Penrose steps. What's so special about the triangle?**_

_**I wondered about your username too, what does 'forgewithstyle' mean? Sounds like it has an interesting story behind it.**_

_**Arthur**_

While waiting for a reply, Arthur's phone buzzed, signalling a text. He noted in surprise that it was from Yusuf, who rarely knew where his phone was to text.

**08.57am Yusuf**

**I hear you're talking to Eames? How's that going?**

He sent a reply, curious as to Yusuf's motives for asking. They had an unusual friendship, in the way that neither of them made small talk or conversation unless they were in person. When they text or called, it was because they had a specific purpose, and not just to chat.

**08.58am Arthur**

**Yeah, and pretty good. We get on well. Why do you ask?**

He'd gathered that Ariadne had told Yusuf about his decision to continue talking to Eames. It wasn't a secret, and he didn't mind that she'd told Yusuf. Arthur knew that Yusuf had struck up a good friendship with Eames when he completed his exchange year, but he seemed pretty interested in Arthur's not-friendship with him.

**08.59am Yusuf**

**Curiosity. After I came back to LA, Eames became unsociable. He stopped hanging out with most of his friends, because he said he preferred to be alone; yet you've certainly made an impression on him.**

Arthur could read what Yusuf wasn't saying and took the straightforward approach.

**09:01am Arthur**

**You know about his job and want to know how much I know.**

It most definitely was not a question, and Arthur knew Yusuf would know exactly how he meant it. He waited impatiently for a reply, not noticing that Eames had responded to his e-mail.

**09.02am Yusuf**

**Yes, I know what he does. How much do you know?**

Arthur glanced at his screen and spotted Eames' reply. He clicked it open, but didn't read it, instead replying to Yusuf's text.

**09.04am Arthur**

**Nothing. I haven't asked, and he hasn't told me, other than that it's not strictly speaking legal. If and when he wants to share, I'm happy to listen.**

He glanced up and read Eames' email, which made his smile widen. The Brit clearly felt Arthur was a much better person than he actually was.

_**Arthur,**_

_**I don't believe you. From what I've gathered from our brief conversations, you seem the type of person to bend over backwards for your friends and who is fiercely loyal. I can't imagine you taking anyone for granted.**_

_**Also, I quite like your sharp tongue. It makes for an interesting conversation as you're honest and don't sugar-coat your words.**_

_**I'm glad you thought I was worth talking to enough to carry on after you'd finished your research.**_

_**It's an unusual combination, but if it works for you then there's nothing odd about it. Mind if I ask why Sociology if you're more interested in Architecture?**_

_**Ah, my username isn't so special. Just matched my e-mail address.**_

_**Eames**_

He was flattered by the compliment, and while he _was_ 'fiercely loyal', he still thought he should make more of an effort to spend time with his friends. He wasn't at work again until Monday, so he would arrange something for tomorrow.

He also liked that Eames appreciated his sharpness. Not many people saw his brutal honesty and sarcasm as a good thing, but clearly Eames did.

As for the username, well… Arthur clearly knew a swerve when he saw one. Eames was avoiding answering the question. Arthur respected that Eames didn't want to answer the question, and appreciated that he chose to avoid the question rather than lie outright.

_**Eames,**_

_**I guess so. I feel like I don't make enough of an effort to socialise though. Ariadne and Dom usually have to drag me out.**_

_**Most people don't feel that way. I feel nothing but contempt for people who mince words; just say it bluntly. Unfortunately, I seem to be too blunt for most people's taste.**_

_**I'm glad too. It's strange to think I could have been missing out on getting to know such an interesting person.**_

_**Sociology requires a lot of research, and our professor is infamous for having a curriculum that would normally never pass an ethics board. I couldn't pass up the opportunity to take his class, and, while I don't want a career in Sociology, the research practice comes in handy. What made you choose it for the short time you studied it?**_

_**Arthur**_

Arthur sent the reply, already eager for Eames' next e-mail. He could see himself forming a friendship with the English boy, who was such an enigma and yet so easy to read at the same time. He stood to get a glass of water and as he did so, his phone buzzed. He filled his glass and lifted it to his mouth as he opened the text. A frown grew on his face as he lowered the glass from his mouth.

**09.16am Yusuf**

**Just be careful. Eames is genuinely a good guy, but you never know what his motives are.**

Arthur shot an involuntary glance at his laptop screen, which signalled a new e-mail. He slid the glass back on the bench and rubbed his eyes. Everyone was so cryptic where Eames was concerned. Arthur wondered exactly what the hell he'd gotten himself in to.

* * *

**And that was chapter three! A text like that would be messing with Arthur's head, don't you think? I know it's an awful place to leave the chapter, especially with the short break, but don't hate me too much!**

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed and PM'd me after last chapter, please keep reviewing, I really love all your comments and I especially enjoy hearing your suggestions for future chapters.**


	4. A New Perspective

**Okay, so firstly, I'm back! Did you miss me? I had a great holiday, and worked steadily on Chapter 4 while I was away. Secondly, this chapter is a little different from previous ones, because near the end, it swaps to Eames' side of things, recounting his side of when he first got Arthur's message. So I hope everyone who reviewed asking about Eames' side of their meeting finds this lives up to expectations. But anyway, hope you enjoy the chapter!**

* * *

**Chapter Four: A New Perspective**

Arthur clicked open the e-mail, Yusuf's text sounding alarm bells in his head. He'd neglected to reply thus far, certain his irritation at Yusuf's vague warning would cause him to say something he would later regret. Arthur _hated _people who minced words. Being direct himself, it was a trait he had the least patience with.

_**Arthur,**_

_**Ariadne's the girl who's dating Yusuf? And Dom's your other friend?**_

_**I completely agree. While I can sympathise with the need for tact; hesitation and evasive words only lead to misunderstandings. Unfortunately, I find this is something I preach, but don't often practice.**_

_**Honestly, you think my life is much more exciting than it actually is. It's pretty straightforward, really.**_

_**So you want to go into research? What type? That kind of thing is always useful in my kind of work, if you know where to look. Never fancied a life of crime?**_

_**I had a professor like that a few years ago; the assignments he issued were amazingly unique. Unfortunately, he transferred halfway through my first year. The replacement teacher … well, let's say we didn't get on. I had no chance of passing, so when I was 'offered' this unique position, I took it. I still have his book though: Professor H Saito, 'Sociology and Interaction with Strangers'. Have you read it? It seems like it would be relevant to your course.**_

_**Eames**_

Arthur blinked, disbelievingly, totally distracted from his earlier unease. The likelihood that Saito had been Eames' professor was slim. He wondered if Yusuf and Eames were conspiring to wind him up. It seemed the most likely solution. Arthur decided to reply, calling Eames' bluff.

_**Eames,**_

_**Yes, Ariadne's dating Yusuf, and Dom, well, I'd consider him my best friend. I've known Dom since I was very young. His girlfriend Mal is lovely, she usually hangs out with us too.**_

_**What can possibly be straightforward about a life of crime? It's certainly different from the everyday monotony of college.**_

_**I'm not exactly sure yet. There are plenty of areas for research and there's nothing I've looked into that I haven't enjoyed. Interestingly, criminal ventures are something I have actually considered, but in most respects, I'm quite a stickler for rules.**_

_**Very funny. I suppose you've been conferring with Yusuf? Of course I've read it, it's top of my course reading list.**_

_**Arthur**_

Satisfied he'd caught them out, Arthur rang Yusuf to berate him for his part in the joke. It wasn't until the chemistry graduate answered the phone that Arthur remembered the text he'd gotten.

"What's up?" Yusuf said hesitantly.

"Have you and Eames been discussing ways to wind me up?" Arthur asked, frowning.

"No, Eames won't discuss you. I asked how you were getting on and he said to ask you. Why? Has he said something?" Yusuf asked.

Arthur felt a rush of affection and pride that the Brit wasn't sharing all the details of their conversation with Yusuf. While they'd said nothing that could be constituted as embarrassing, Arthur felt that his correspondence with Eames was private. It made him happy to know that Eames felt the same. At the same time, it bewildered him at how Eames knew about Saito.

"Not exactly." He paused. "Do you know why Eames dropped out of college?"

Yusuf hesitated. "Wouldn't you rather ask Eames?"

Arthur scowled at the implication that he was fishing for information that Eames wasn't prepared to give. That wasn't his plan. He didn't intend to ask Yusuf about anything that Eames may or may not have told him.

"I have." He said acidly. "The part I'm struggling with is that he says his Sociology professor was _Saito_."

"I've no idea." Yusuf said honestly. "All I know is that around eight months in Eames had a new professor that took an instant dislike to him and that he dropped out soon after I came back to LA."

Arthur couldn't believe it. The same course, the same teacher … the coincidences were endless. He thanked Yusuf and hung up, forgetting to ask about his warning. Mentally, he shrugged and then turned back to his screen to see that Eames had replied.

_**Arthur,**_

_**I'm glad you have such good friends; Yusuf is brilliant. Does your partner not join you, or do you keep things separate?**_

_**It's a dangerous business to be in; but it's exciting and it pays well. Perhaps you should give it more thought ;)**_

_**Conferring with Yusuf? I don't understand. I can see why it's the top of your reading list, it seems relevant.**_

_**Eames**_

Arthur felt foolish for not believing Eames. Saito _was _new to the college; he'd starting teaching the year before Arthur had started. But to him, it had seemed inconceivable that both he and Eames had started the same course with the same professor. He tapped out his reply.

_**Eames,**_

_**I don't have a partner – my last relationship was a disaster. It's not really something I care to discuss.**_

_**When you sell the benefits of a career in illegality so well, how can I refuse? In all seriousness, I have considered it, and while I'd appreciate the paycheck, I'm not sure I could stand the loneliness.**_

_**So you really were taught by Saito? He's actually my professor. Small world.**_

_**Arthur**_

The Sociology student felt uncomfortable as the conversation gently touched on his wreck of a love life. While Arthur knew that it was ignorance that had compelled Eames to ask, it brought up how Nash's betrayal had served to define the last year of his life. It was simply because Eames didn't know that Arthur had managed to keep his emotions in check.

After a few minutes, Arthur realised that Eames was taking a little longer than usual to reply. He immediately worried that his unwillingness to discuss his relationships, or lack thereof, had offended the Brit.

"Not even that." He thought, anxiously. "How briskly I made it clear that the subject was taboo was probably the clincher."

Since Arthur and Eames had just finished discussing the former's preference for being direct, Arthur assumed Eames would let him know if he was offended, so Arthur held off from apologising prematurely, sure the Brit would let him know. The minutes ticked by, and still no message came through. Arthur waited patiently for almost fifteen minutes, before opening a new e-mail. He was just typing out an apology when Eames replied. He clicked on it, nervously, expecting a tirade of hurt and anger.

_**Arthur,**_

_**No worries. You never have to talk about anything you don't want to with me. But if you ever need a judgement-free friend, or even just metaphorical shoulder, I'm your man.**_

_**As you say, it can be lonely. While I was popular, I never really had any proper friends, except Yusuf, so I didn't really lose out when I distanced myself. You clearly have some excellent friends, so perhaps this sort of career isn't for you.**_

_**Yeah, he was my first year Socio professor. He should remember me, I was a bit of a joker and he seemed to like me. You should tell him that his assignment led you to me, it should amuse him. Definitely a small world.**_

_**Sorry about the delay, my flatmate came home and he owed me money.**_

_**Eames**_

Arthur softened. Eames wasn't offended. At the same time, he couldn't help but feel pleased. After only a few days, Eames knew him well enough to know that he wasn't being purposely rude. It was also a little odd that Eames knew not to be offended by something that would have upset even _Mal_, who had the most gentle nature that Arthur had ever known.

It was this revelation that caused Arthur to disregard Yusuf's warning, although he was determined not to underestimate Eames. The Brit himself had warned Arthur of what he was like, but Arthur was stubborn. While he imagined Eames was capable of a good many things, and not all of them nice, he found it difficult to believe that someone so well-read, someone Arthur had connected with so easily, could be that bad.

_**Eames,**_

_**Thank you for understanding. I'm not really the opening up kind, but there have been occasions, so you never know, I may take you up on it. I'm not an ideal person to reciprocate to, but if you ever want to talk, I'm happy to listen. **_

_**I have Sociology first thing on Monday; I'll try and catch him after class. I'll let you know on Monday night if he remembers you.**_

_**A joker? That sounds intriguing, care to share? I may even be inclined to share a few stories of my own.**_

_**Arthur**_

He sat back and grinned. He'd pulled a few pranks in high school himself, but his excellent records and boyish innocent face kept the teachers from suspecting him and Dom. Upon his acceptance into college, Arthur had seemingly settled down, becoming more responsible. In actuality, he was too busy moonlighting to plan any pranks. He kept in touch with an old friend, Jacques, a Frenchman aged twenty-three; four years Arthur's senior. Arthur didn't actually know what Jacques did, but he was under no illusions of its legality. He feigned ignorance, but when Jacques called needing Arthur's assistance with some research that was difficult to acquire, he would help out, and get a three figure payment for his efforts. It usually took no more than an hour, but there had been two occasions when Arthur had had to bypass secure databases to acquire the information, and it had ended up taking all night.

Jacques rang him every Saturday night, with or without a job offer, generally just to catch up. The time difference meant that Jacques was on a similar time zone to Eames. The major difference was that while Jacques was also up till all hours of the night, it was his only job. He didn't bother with the charade of juggling a legal job with his obvious career of … whatever it was. He just worked at night.

Arthur's phone buzzed, and he glanced down at it automatically.

**10.32am Ariadne**

**Lunch at Clarkson's?**

Arthur paused. Clarkson's was his favourite restaurant; it did a varied lunch menu that Arthur adored. Torn between Eames' company and lunch with Ariadne, he stared at the laptop as if he hoped it would make the decision for him. Remembering his recent conversation with Eames about taking his friends for granted, he decided there was no harm in going.

**10:34am Arthur**

**Yeah, I'll come. What time and who's coming?**

He turned back to his laptop, and opened Eames' e-mail.

_**Arthur,**_

_**Don't mention it. I didn't see you as the shoulder-to-cry-on-type, but I wanted you to know that the offer is there, whether you take me up on it or not. Thanks for the reciprocation :)**_

_**You? A joker? Are you sure this is Arthur? Not that I've judged you at all, but it doesn't fit with the image I have of you.**_

_**I have too many to list in an e-mail, do you use an IM? It would be much easier to chat, although I do enjoy our e-mail correspondence.**_

_**Eames**_

Arthur smiled. He thought it was a great idea, moving to an instant messenger. It meant their messages would be received quicker than an e-mail and allowed Arthur to work while he was chatting to Eames, saving time in the long run. He was slightly disgruntled that he hadn't thought of it himself. He began typing a reply.

_**Eames,**_

_**You're welcome.**_

_**Indeed, I have been known to pull a few pranks in my day. Nothing brilliant, but enough to confuse the teachers. Of course, I was never caught.**_

_**Yeah, that's a great idea. Skype? My screen name is the same as my Twitter.**_

_**Arthur**_

As he pressed send, his phone buzzed, to signal Ariadne's response. Arthur picked it up and opened the message.

**10.42am Ariadne**

**12:30 outside? It's just us and Dom. Y and M can't make it.**

Arthur frowned at Ariadne's shortening of Yusuf and Mal, but didn't comment. He fired off a quick reply stating he would be there at the designated time and turned back to his laptop to see a pop up on Skype.

_1 NEW CONTACT_

Arthur instantly recognised the screen name and confirmed the request, adding Eames to his contact list. He smiled, and doubled clicked to open a conversation. He began to type a greeting.

* * *

Eames waited patiently for Arthur to accept his request. After a few minutes, a window opened and Arthur started a conversation.

**Arthur: Hello.**

Eames chuckled at the formal greeting, so typical of the American boy he was beginning to be quite fond of.

**Eames: Well hello there :)**

**Eames: Pranks?**

**Arthur: Yeah, I was subtle about it. Dom being the exception, I don't think anyone ever knew it was me.**

**Eames: Do tell?**

**Arthur: Nuh-uh, you first.**

**Eames: -sigh- if I must. I have a certain … aptness for being able to mimic handwriting. (Incidentally, the reason behind my usernames). Once, I sent letters home, signed by the Head, informing parents that condoms would be distributed at prom to encourage safe sex. I got two months detention for that, but it was so worth it :P**

**Arthur: Haha, very creative. That's actually pretty clever. I think a horde of angry parents would have lynched the principal if that had happened here.**

**Eames: I was sort of hoping they would burn the school down, but no such luck. So tell me one of yours?**

**Arthur: I once hacked into one of the office computers and ordered 1000 copies of the Kama Sutra for the school library.**

**Eames: Haha! That's brilliant. And there I was thinking you had no imagination.**

**Arthur: Thanks so much.**

**Eames: I didn't mean it like that. I only meant that I didn't think you would be able to pull off something like that. You said yourself, you're something of a stickler for rules.**

**Arthur: I guess. So, next prank?**

Eames racked his brain trying to think of something really funny and clever. He wanted to impress Arthur, but didn't know how to go about it.

**Eames: Nothing else I did was very clever. I superglued all of the locks in the building once.**

**Arthur: How much trouble did you get in?**

**Eames: None, because I broke in overnight and did it, so they couldn't prove anything.**

**Arthur: Smooth.**

**Eames: I thought so. Your turn?**

He chuckled away to himself, reminiscing about his schooldays. When he'd superglued all of the locks, he turned up the next day to find that everyone was stuck in the corridors, unable to enter any of the rooms. Upon his arrival, he'd been yanked over to the Headmaster.

"What do you know of this, Mr Eames?"

"Sir?"

"The _locks_, boy!" He'd roared. "Some _unknown_ prankster has superglued all of the locks. If you have anything to do with this, Mr Eames, I shall have you expelled."

"I didn't do anything, sir. I don't know anything about it. It's an excellent idea though, I'll ensure to remember that one."

In retrospect; it was definitely one of the best pranks he'd ever pulled. Not only because he hadn't been caught, but because of its simplicity, yet its effectiveness. Eames turned back to the computer to read Arthur's latest message.

**Arthur: Unfortunately, it'll have to wait. I've been invited to lunch with Dom and Ariadne, so I'm going to have to shoot out for a few hours. Will you be about when I get back?**

He was disappointed that Arthur had to go, he enjoyed their conversations. The only companionship Eames really had these days were his e-mails to Yusuf, and now his conversations with Arthur.

**Eames: I should be; it's only 7pm. Have fun! Catch you later.**

**Arthur: Thanks, enjoy your evening.**

The American signed off. Eames kept the conversation open, re-reading it. Arthur never failed to surprise him – he would never have imagined the American was the type to pull pranks, be a bit of a joker. But Eames was starting to understand Arthur in ways he hadn't thought. He knew Arthur's type very well: on the outside, he seemed cold, emotionless, curt, but from the short time they'd been conversing, Eames knew that Arthur felt more passionately than anyone he'd ever know. From Arthur's reaction to Eames' harmless question about a partner, it was easy for the Brit to see that someone had hurt Arthur badly. Possibly that someone was at least partially responsible for Arthur's closed personality. Because it was clear to Eames that part of Arthur was completely closed off.

Whoever it was, Eames hated them. He wasn't sure if they were male or female. If someone had asked him, he would have said Arthur was gay, but he wasn't positive.

He thought back a few days to when he got the first message from Penrose_Steps. Eames had been apathetic when it came through, expecting it to be some sort of scam, or a fake message. Nothing that would interest him. Opening it, he read the curt, precise message with some surprise.

_**Mr Eames,**_

_**My college sociology report requires some research; if you have some time, I'd like to ask you some questions.**_

_**Arthur**_

Eames was intrigued as soon as he received the message. He'd read it as soon as it was sent, but at 8am on Thursday morning, his shift was finishing. He'd decide what to do about it the next day. Upon waking, Eames forgot all about his unusual message, until he was getting ready for his shift at the storage facility. He logged on to Twitter quickly and checked out Arthur's profile. Wow. Eames took one look at the American's dark hair and brown eyes, and swallowed. He was absolutely _gorgeous_. The slightest hint of a smile was present, making him look relaxed and friendly. When Eames considered the contrast between the approachable boy in the profile picture and the blunt writing style, he decided then and there that he wanted to know more about the American who clearly had so much depth to him.

About to close his profile, Eames spotted that Arthur was following Yusuf. Huh. They had a mutual friend. He scanned Arthur's profile and saw he lived in LA.

He decided to call Yusuf and ask about this mysterious Penrose_Steps. Knowing Yusuf worked a 9 to 5 job and accounting for the eight hour time difference, he calculated that it would be around 2am before he could call Yusuf. A glance at his watch told him that he only had a few hours to wait. He closed his laptop and headed off to work, his mind already made up. He would reply to Arthur's message as soon as he could.

At about ten to three, Eames picked up his phone, dialling Yusuf's number. There was a crackle as the overseas call connected, and then Yusuf's voice greeted him.

"Eames! What can I do for you?"

Eames grinned, pleased to hear Yusuf's cheerful voice again. "Does a bloke need a reason to call his old friend?"

Yusuf laughed loudly. "When it's you, Eames, yes. How can I help?"

"I just got a rather interesting message from a Penrose_Steps. Arthur Levine?" He explained. "I checked it out and spotted we both seemed to have a mutual friend."

"Ahh, yes, his Sociology assignment. My girlfriend, Ariadne, is in his class. She has the same assignment. Spent almost an hour last night perfecting her message, determined that she would get a reply."

Eames chuckled. "The odds aren't exactly in her favour. But, yeah, I just wanted to make sure it wasn't some sort of hoax."

"Nah, I can assure you, Arthur isn't the sociable type. He's not very good around people, so it was probably hard for him to speak to someone outside of his social circle."

Eames raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment. "So he would have sent it purely to get a good mark?"

"Probably. But then I never know why Arthur does anything. He's two years younger than us, but if you knew him, you'd think he was five years older."

Eames was silent. Everything he'd heard about the American served to feed his curiosity. He'd already decided he would reply to Arthur's message, but he wasn't sure that a brief conversation while he answered Arthur's questions would be enough. Perhaps he could bargain, persuade Arthur to answer the questions in return? He realised Yusuf was talking again, and returned his attention to the phone call.

"But I told him not to expect a reply anyway, so he won't be too let down when you don't reply."

"Mmm." Eames said noncommittally. Yusuf had made the assumption that Eames wouldn't give Arthur the time of day, and, although it was not without good reason, it strengthened his resolve to reply to the enigmatic boy's message.

"I gotta go; I'm outside Ariadne's now, and I've got a crate of beer to carry in. I'll call you tomorrow, around the same time, yeah? Catch you later."

Eames said goodbye and hung up. As soon as he slid his phone into his pocket, he pulled his laptop towards him and typed a reply to Arthur.

* * *

Eames blinked, and realised he'd been staring at his laptop for around fifteen minutes without moving, and his flatmate was calling his name.

"What?" He spun round, irritably. He generally got on with Rob, but he was lost in thoughts, and hadn't wanted to be disturbed.

"Sorry, I just wanted to give you the rent." He said, handing Eames an envelope. Eames didn't bother counting it, knowing that his flatmate was trustworthy and that it would all be there.

"Sorry, I'm just knackered. Weekends always throw me. Cheers mate."

"No problem." Rob said. "I'm going out in a few minutes. Need anything while I'm out?"

"Nah, thanks. I'm gonna order a pizza. Want anything kept?"

Rob shook his head and left. Eames turned back to his computer, returning to his early thoughts of Arthur. From the second Arthur had agreed to answer the same questions that he was asking Eames, Eames had liked him. Arthur was sincere, honest, and while he might not come across as friendly, Eames could see immediately that he was. He was just uncomfortable with new people.

Now, after a few days of regular interaction with the American, Eames was starting to get to know Arthur, quite well. His feelings hadn't changed. He still thought Arthur was honest, sincere and intriguing; only now he could add more attributes to the list, and all of them were positive. Friends were impossible to come by in Eames' line of work, and only distant friends like Yusuf were safe from Cobol if Eames ever screwed up, so he was glad to have another person he could talk to. While Eames never got lonely as such, sometimes he craved an intelligent conversation in topics that Yusuf knew very little about. Arthur filled those gaps perfectly.

In the short time Eames had known Arthur, the latter had become very much part of his routine and Eames was fond of their nightly conversation. He felt Arthur was practically a friend, even though they'd never met. Something was different about him though, and Eames couldn't put his finger on it. He'd just have to wait and see what happened with the enigmatic American boy.

He pulled up some details of the latest 'assignment' he'd been given from Cobol, and waited patiently for Arthur to come back.

* * *

**So that's chapter four, and Eames' version of their meeting. I hope you all liked it. I'm trying to change the pace on this story a little compared to my others. I want their relationship to develop slowly, so there'll be a lot of misunderstandings and obstacles before they get together.**

**Thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far. Please keep reviewing! –DD**


	5. Run Interference

**Sorry for the delay, back at university now, so things have been so unbelievable hectic! I'm intending to have this story a little longer than originally intended, as I want it to be realistically paced. It will be a while before Eames and Arthur get together, and of course, it wouldn't be right if they didn't have to deal with a load of angst first. So please bear with me, and I hope it'll be worth the wait. Much love!**

* * *

**Chapter Five: Run Interference**

Arthur took his time changing into a pair of dark jeans and white shirt with a sweater vest. Clarkson's had no dress code, but Arthur liked to look his best no matter where he was. It would be good to spend time with his two best friends. While he adored Mal, and really liked Yusuf, it was nice to spend time with the two people he was closest to. Arthur had met Dom in preschool, and Ariadne in high school, and they'd been inseparable ever since. He considered Dom his best friend, but Arthur knew he couldn't do without Ariadne either.

It was unusual for Mal not to join them. While Yusuf often bowed out due to work commitments, though Arthur wasn't sure exactly what the chemistry graduate did, Mal was usually around, glued to Dom's arm. Arthur wondered briefly if they'd had a fight, but dismissed the thought. Mal and Dom _never _fought. They were so in sync, so in tune with each other. Arthur had never even seen them irritated with each other, let alone fight. It was the same with Yusuf and Ariadne: Arthur had never seen them fight. But they weren't exactly like Dom and Mal. There were times when Yusuf had upset Ariadne, and he had grovelled immediately, until she'd forgiven him. The rare times Ariadne had upset Yusuf, she apologised and he'd forgiven her without a second thought. Yusuf was incredibly easy going.

Arthur had never had a relationship like that. Before Nash, Arthur had never had a proper relationship. Nash was his first real boyfriend. They'd gotten together in high school and they'd fought constantly. Back then, Arthur had gathered it was normal for people to argue in a relationship, but, in retrospect, he realised that they'd had little in common and that things had been going badly since the beginning. But he'd loved Nash, and hadn't wanted to give up. Clearly Nash hadn't felt the same.

Arthur shrugged on his jacket, pushing his melancholic thoughts away. He was happy single; concentrating on his friends and his college assignments. A relationship would only disrupt his schedule, and, even if he wanted one, he wasn't in any sort of position where it was likely. He couldn't even talk to someone in class, never mind get to know someone well enough for a relationship.

Picking up his wallet and keys, Arthur left. He began the ten minute walk to Clarksons. Arthur didn't have a car, although he could drive. He preferred to walk everywhere, only relying on public transport when it was absolutely necessary. Adopting a slow, casual pace, Arthur slipped his earphones in and turned on his iPod. Edith Piaf's La Vie En Rose began playing. Arthur listened to the words carefully. He'd heard the song hundreds of times, but he still didn't understand it. Fluent in French, he knew exactly what the point of the song was. What he couldn't understand was how love could make you feel so strongly, enough to see life in a new way, that a single person could make you feel your heart beat as soon as you saw them. Arthur had never felt like that, and he'd accepted he probably never would.

He arrived at the restaurant at the same time as Dom and Ariadne, who had clearly driven. Dom grinned and waved. Arthur returned the grin and they entered the restaurant. Ariadne was in full flow about some'idiot who had no consideration for other drivers' and how said idiot should be banned from the roads. Arthur knew from experience that if he interrupted or tried to console Ariadne before she was finished her rant, he would regret it. So he sat, nodding and waiting till she calmed down before he made a joke.

"Geez, Ari, not everyone can be model drivers."

She laughed. "True. You should see Yusuf drive."

Arthur shuddered. While he'd never been in a vehicle while Yusuf was driving, he'd seen him when he arrived at Ariadne's. The chemistry student was a genius, but he was a menace to society when behind the wheel of a car. The noises that came from Yusuf's engine, Arthur was surprised the car still moved.

The mention of Yusuf reminded Arthur of Mal's absence. He turned to Dom and asked about the French girl.

"How come Mal couldn't make it? I hope everything's okay."

Dom bit his lip, uneasily. "I'm not sure." He rubbed his eyes, betraying his worry. "She said she had an appointment to see a doctor, but she wouldn't say what for, just that it was routine."

Surprised and concerned, Arthur concealed his emotions and adopted a placating expression.

"Well, there you go. If it's routine then there's nothing to worry about." Arthur soothed. Dom looked a little more cheerful, but still didn't look convinced.

"Exactly." Ariadne smiled, supportively. "Not to be tactless or anything, but can we order? I'm starving."

Arthur took his customary glance at the menu, before deciding to order his favourite dish. He adored the chicken and shrimp carbonara. It was unrivalled in its taste.

Lunch was a brief affair, as Ariadne had work later in the afternoon. She worked as a pizza delivery girl due to her knowledge of the area. Dom was also anxious to get back to Mal, to see how her appointment had gone. Arthur, himself, was keen to get back to his computer and chat to Eames. He was relieved that the conversation over lunch had steered well clear of Eames. Arthur felt uncomfortable discussing the Brit; while he knew his friends would never laugh at him, he felt like he was foolish, making friends with someone he'd never laid eyes on. Their similar interests and complementary personalities put them, in Arthur's opinion, on the same page, and he was loathe to find that anywhere else, or with anyone else. So, while Eames was still intrigued about Arthur, the latter would make the most of it.

Unfortunately, Arthur's relief was short-lived; as Ariadne headed off to work, Arthur accepted Dom's offer of a lift back to his dorm.

"So how are things with Eames?" Dom asked, as they drove away from the restaurant. Arthur tensed his shoulders.

"Fine." He said casually. "I was telling him about the time I ordered a thousand copies of the Kama Sutra in high school."

Dom laughed, keeping his eyes fixed firmly on the road. "I always thought it was unreal how they never figured out it was you. So what did he say?"

Arthur grinned. "He told me about the time he superglued all of the locks in his school building."

Dom laughed again. "That's pretty good. Wish I'd thought of it." He swung into the parking lot outside Arthur's room. "Were you talking to him last night?"

Arthur frowned. "Yeah, why?"

When Dom hesitated, Arthur could tell he wasn't going to like what his oldest friend was about to say. His eyes narrowed, but he held his tongue as he waited for Dom to speak.

"You just look pretty tired today, and then you were almost late on Friday... Arthur, I will _never_ tell you what to do, or who to speak to, you know that. But it seems like Eames has become quite important to you in so short a time, and, well… I'd hate to think you were losing sleep just so you could manage the time difference."

Arthur scowled. "The time difference affects nothing, because Eames works nightshift. I slept in because I stayed up copying a transcript of the conversation for Professor Saito. As for last night, Eames disappeared at 4am, which puts it at 8pm here. I went to bed around ten, and then was up at six. So I've had eight hours sleep, which I think is more than enough. Is there anything else I can do to put your mind at rest?"

Dom looked taken aback. "Arthur…"

"No." Arthur cut him off. "I don't want to hear it. When I sleep is my business, and this is the only time I intend to justify myself to you. For some reason, you've decided that you don't like Eames. No, _don't lie to me Dom_, I can see it in your face. For fuck's sake, he's just someone I speak to online. What are you so worried about?"

"Arthur," Dom began again, but Arthur was livid and refused to listen. He got out of the car and swept over to his room, letting himself in. Dom, however, was having none of Arthur's mood swing, and followed him.

"Listen to me, will you? I don't give a shit if you want to speak to Eames every waking hour. Any fool can see the good he's doing; I've never seen you able to interact with anyone like this since Nash fucked you over. I'm just making sure that doesn't happen again. Can you blame me for not wanting to watch you go through that again?"

Arthur blinked, incredulously. "With _Eames_? I've only known him a few days, that's a ridiculous concept."

"Is it?" Dom countered, eyebrow raised. "That's not what I meant anyway, from what Yusuf has said, even as a friend it sounds like Eames is in a prime position to hurt you.

"I don't fucking believe this." Arthur snapped. "Yes, he might be everything Yusuf has told you, and I can't believe he's told you at all, because not only is Eames his friend, it's none of your fucking business. For fuck's sake, Dom, he lives four thousand miles away. I've never even clapped eyes on the man! What gives you the right to judge that he's going to hurt me?"

Dom looked sheepish. "I'm sorry, Arthur. Really. I was just trying to look out for you. I won't bring it up again, but I should warn you that Ariadne was the one who mentioned you looked tired, and I can't promise she won't bring it up."

Arthur nodded, and Dom left, head bowed. Too tired and annoyed to face logging in to speak to Eames just then, Arthur lay down on his bed, suddenly exhausted and miserable.

* * *

He awoke when his phone rang. He glanced down, blearily, to see Jacques was calling. He glanced at his watch and saw that he'd slept through the rest of the day, and that it was early evening.

"Hello?"

"Ahh, Arthur, _mon ami_, how are you?" Jacques throaty accent was just the comfort Arthur needed at that moment. Someone who wouldn't judge him, no matter what he did.

"Hello Jacques, I'm fine. How about you?" Arthur tried to sound cheerful, but failed.

"All is well, my friend, but I can hear from your voice that things are not as fine as you make out, _non_?"

Arthur laughed. Jacques wasn't one to undertake a subtle approach.

"Really, everything will be fine by tomorrow. Did you have a job for me?" He asked, hopefully. Not only could he do with the money, the research would take his mind off the fight with Dom.

"_Oui, mon ami_, but it will be difficult. I have the name of an organisation, but I need anything you can find for this. I need the name of the members and profiles on them. I have a week's grace, but I imagine with the two of us, it should only take us two days. Are you up for it?"

Arthur didn't hesitate. Total immersion in research was exactly what he needed at that moment. "Absolutely." He said firmly. "Give me the details."

Jacques gave him the name of the organisation, the Black Moon gang. "Are you certain everything is well, my friend?"

Arthur was quiet for a moment, considering, before everything came spilling out, about Eames, and Yusuf, and the fight with Dom. Jacques listened silently and patiently, waiting until Arthur was finished before offering his opinion.

"And Eames has done nothing to warrant it so far, since I started talking to him, I've been feeling more _me _than I have since Nash cheated on me. Am I really being so obtuse and he's no good for me?" Arthur finished, doubtfully.

Jacques chuckled. "You and I both know you could never be obtuse, _mon ami_. But I also know Dominick Cobb, and this is his way of showing he cares about you. He is not trying to stop you talking to this Eames. But he isalsoable to look at things more objectively than you are. And if your friend Yusuf knows him, then he's in a better position to know if Eames is good for you, even if it is your decision, _non_?"

Arthur let out a breath he didn't even know he'd been holding. "See, this is why I enjoy talking to you Jacques. You always put things into perspective."

Jacques chuckled. "You're welcome. You can pay me back by making this report wonderful. The usual e-mail address. I'll be in touch."

Arthur said his goodbyes and ended the call. He switched his laptop on, logging on to Twitter when it started up. Sure enough, he had a message from Eames, sent about an hour ago.

**Eames (forgewithstyle)**

**To: Penrose_Steps: Had to shoot off, really tired. Catch you later, maybe.**

Arthur stared at the message in dismay, realising his falling asleep had resulted in his missing Eames. He also felt incredibly guilty that the Brit had waited around him to come back most of the day, and he just hadn't. It would be at least Monday now before he would get a chance to speak to Eames again, and that's if he managed to finish this assignment for Jacques by Monday. Feeling like he owed Eames an apology, he logged onto his e-mails and opened a blank message.

_**Eames,**_

_**I'm really sorry about today, I fully intended to come back and chat. I had words with Dom over lunch, and I couldn't face talking to anyone. I lay down for two minutes, and somehow managed to fall asleep. I've literally just woken up.**_

_**I've got a really big assignment I need to work on. It's not exactly for college, more of an unofficial job I do every weekend, to help out a friend. This week it's pretty big, so I won't be around until possibly Monday, if I get it done quickly. Unfortunately, it's not something I can rush, so I'll let you know if plans change.**_

_**I really hope to speak to you soon.**_

_**Arthur**_

He pressed send and tapped out a quick response on Twitter, telling Eames to check his e-mails. That done, Arthur pulled up a new tab in his browser, ready to push all thoughts of his disagreement with Dom out of his head and start on the report. He was sick of everyone dictating the terms of his friendship with Eames. The only consequence of Dom's meddling was that Arthur was now even more determined to continue his correspondence with the Brit. He didn't care what Eames was apparently capable of. All he knew was that his life had become a little brighter with Eames in it.

* * *

Not two minutes after Arthur had logged off to go to lunch, Eames gave up on his report for Cobol. For the last few days, all his life had seemed to revolve around was talking to the American. He didn't understand what appeal Arthur had for him, why they had connected on a level that Eames hadn't experienced before. It was strange for him, to have someone that he could spend every waking minute talking to, after only a short time of knowing them. And it's not like he really knew Arthur; only what it was possible to know through online correspondence. He knew Yusuf though, and the chemistry graduate had assured him that Arthur was exactly how he came across online.

Eames opened Twitter, and clicked through to Arthur's profile, studying his picture. He was ridiculously handsome, Eames took in his eyes, strong chin, slightly dishevelled hair… but it went so much deeper than that. Somewhat of an expert at reading people, in Arthur's expression and conversation, Eames could read his acerbic personality and the pain from whoever had hurt him, but his affectionate nature and genuine character shone through. It was an unnerving experience for Eames.

He'd always been a bit of a loner. While he'd been popular at school because he was funny, he'd never really had a close friend, someone he could confide in, connect with. Yusuf was the closest he'd ever gotten, and after only a few days, Eames would consider himself closer to Arthur than the student he'd spent a full year living with. So it hadn't come as a shock to his system when he'd had to cut everyone off. He didn't miss any of his old friends, although from time to time he craved company that wasn't his regular phone calls to Yusuf. Eames was used to being alone, since his profession meant that it was no longer possible to have friends. In that line of work, there were only two kinds of people. People that were useful to Eames and people that weren't. And he had no problem letting down anyone that wasn't useful to him.

What was unnerving about his friendship with Arthur, was that Eames had never found anyone that he didn't want to let down. Even Yusuf, if he had to hurt him in some way, he would regret it, but it wouldn't change the fact that Eames would do it without even thinking about it. But Arthur was different. Eames looked at the picture of the younger man he'd become fond of so quickly, and he didn't want to be the person responsible for causing more pain to Arthur when he'd clearly already had a load of it.

But Eames' job was the issue. He was responsible for two aspects of Cobol's running. He was a thief, either using his forgery skills, or obtaining information of building plans to pull of heists. That was the fun part, the part he never got tired of doing and the reason he'd agreed to work for Cobol in the first place. It was the second part that was not so fun. He was also responsible for finding scapegoats and anyone who was becoming a hindrance to Cobol operations. While he didn't come close to Arthur's research skills, Eames was good with a computer and always found his target. That was why it wasn't possible to have friends. Because there was always the possibility, however slim, that their name would come up and Eames would be responsible for their deaths, or that Cobol would use them as leverage if, for whatever reason, Eames couldn't or wouldn't complete a job.

Whatever the reason, Eames didn't want to hurt Arthur, although the American seemed to disregard his warning about what he was capable of, so not ten minutes after Arthur logged off, Eames was on the phone to Yusuf.

"He doesn't understand, Yusuf. I know you're fully aware of what I'm capable of. You need to make him understand that I can hurt him so easily." Eames pleaded.

Yusuf sighed. "Eames, there's nothing I can do. We don't have the kind of friendship where Arthur would listen to me."

Eames sighed, dejectedly.

"But I know who does." Yusuf continued, unperturbed. "I'll call Dom, and tell him to have a word with Arthur. But this is that only time I'm getting involved."

"Fine." Eames agreed readily. "He just needs to know what I could do to him so easily."

Yusuf's words were quiet, and Eames had to strain his ears to hear them. "I don't agree, Eames. You're a lot of things, heartless, cold, selfish… but you're no monster. I don't think you have it in you to hurt him, when he's important enough to you that you want me to warn him off. I wish you could see how good you could be for him."

Eames laughed, humourlessly, and Yusuf sighed, knowing it was a lost cause. They said their goodbyes, and Yusuf placed a call to Dom as Eames returned to his laptop, waiting for Arthur to come back.

* * *

**I hope this satisfies everyone's curiosity about Eames' job! Some of you may recognise Jacques from The Real Life; I had to include him here, because I've gotten quite attached to his flamboyant ways, and he seemed to get a good response from TRL readers. The chapter title is from one of my favourite scenes in Inception, when Cobb and Eames are in Mombasa. It seemed to fit quite well here. **

**Next chapter shouldn't be too long, thank you all so much for your patience. Please review! -DD**


	6. Repercussions

**Hey, hey people! I was doing research for this chapter when I stumbled across the IMDb Top 250 films. Did you all know Inception was number 14? I feel like the last few chapters have all concentrated on how Eames was capable of being a bad person, so I wanted this one to show all the good he was capable of doing as well. Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter Six: Repercussions**

Arthur worked relentlessly all through Saturday night, not stopping for a break until he took a shower at around eight o'clock on Sunday morning. He was determined to have finished Jacques' report by the next morning, so he could spend Monday night talking to Eames. Already he was more than half way through. He'd managed to compile a full list of members of the organisation, and a full report on each person, as well as the location of their headquarters.

By dinner time, he was almost finished. It would only take him a few more hours at most. Jacques hadn't been kidding; this was the most demanding assignment he'd given Arthur yet. And the information had definitely not been easy to obtain. Arthur was ridiculously glad he had a very secure firewall, but even so, he still routed his connected through Australia to throw any potential trackers off his scent.

At around 8pm, Arthur's phone rang. He glanced at the display and turned back to his computer, ignoring the call. Whatever it was that Yusuf had told Dom about Eames, Arthur was furious at the interference, and had no desire to talk to Yusuf at all at that present moment. The chemistry graduate, however, seemed to realise that Arthur would attempt this approach, and kept redialling. On the fifth call, Arthur picked up.

"What is it, Yusuf?" He snarled. "I'm in the middle of something."

"I just wanted to explain about earlier. You know I'm not the type of person to insult his friends behind their backs."

Arthur did know this, and for that reason, he reigned in his desire to berate Yusuf, and instead decided to listen to what he had to say.

"I'm listening." He said, resignedly. Clearly Yusuf would not be hanging up before he'd said his piece anyway.

He could sense Yusuf's surprise and supressed a grin. Clearly, he'd been gearing up to arguing his case a little more, expecting Arthur to object.

"Look, it wasn't my idea. Eames felt you weren't taking his warnings seriously, so he asked me to try and make you listen, but I assumed that we didn't have that level of friendship, so I asked Dom." Yusuf explained.

Arthur was taken aback. "Listen, Yusuf, we _are _friends, you know that right? You're not just Ariadne's boyfriend, and if you need to explain something to me, you don't have to go through Dom or Ariadne. You can tell me yourself."

"Good. That's…" Yusuf cleared his throat, uncomfortable with expressing sentiment. "That's really good. You too. So what are you going to do about Eames?"

Arthur chuckled, darkly. "You leave Eames to me. I have work to do this weekend, for Jacques, and it should take me till Monday morning, so it'll be Monday night or Tuesday before I speak to him next. I'll deal with it then."

He bid Yusuf farewell and hung up, returning to his laptop. Gruelling though his task was, Arthur was enjoying every second of Jacques' latest assignment. Research was his thing, and there wasn't an aspect of it he didn't enjoy. It was what he loved about college, the excessive research involved in each assignment, particularly a subject as demanding as Sociology. It was the one constant that Arthur knew would definitely remain in his future: no matter what he did, it would involve research.

At around four am, Arthur finished, sending the file to Jacques immediately before heading to bed for a meagre three hours sleep. When he awoke, Arthur felt like he'd only been asleep for a few minutes. He had to prise his eyelids apart, unable to force them open with sheer willpower. Even after the few hours rest, Arthur's energy was zapped. Next time he wouldn't work so steadily through Jacques' assignments, instead taking necessary breaks and sleeping regularly.

He wasn't sure exactly how he got to class that morning, or how he managed to stay awake. It took him all his concentration to stay awake and make notes. It was due to this focus that Arthur didn't notice the disapproving looks and frowns he was getting from his friends. After the lesson, Arthur moved quickly from his desk over to his professor. Saito glanced up, surprised. There weren't usually any questions after his classes.

"Professor Saito? Do you have a minute? I wanted to talk about the assignment, kind of."

Saito nodded, motioning for Arthur to proceed, his curiosity piqued.

"Well, it's just that, you know how I was the only one to get a reply? Well, the person I messaged, we sort of carried on talking, and, he said he knows you, sir."

Saito raised an eyebrow, the slightest hint of a smile on his face. "Did he, indeed?"

"Yes, sir. He said you used to teach at a college he attended, and that you might remember him." Arthur said quietly.

Saito smiled. "Possibly, but I've taught a lot of students, Mr Levine. I can't remember everyone."

Arthur nodded, taking Saito's words as a dismissal, and beginning to retreat. The professor stopped him.

"Incidentally, what was his name?"

"Eames, sir." Arthur replied.

A gleam appeared in Saito's eye and his smile grew more pronounced until he let out a chuckle. "Eames? Well, well, well. It _is_ a small world. Of course I remember him, one of my best students! Well, one of the most entertaining. Yes, Mr Eames was very amusing." He said dryly.

Arthur stared. He hadn't expected Saito to remember Eames at all. It seemed that the Brit was clearly more memorable than Arthur had thought.

"What's… what's he like, sir? In person I mean." Arthur asked shyly, feeling ridiculous for even asking his professor that, realising it said more about his attachment to Eames than he was willing to let on. This realisation was proven when Saito's head snapped around so he could stare at Arthur, appraisingly.

"He replied… yes, I can see, yes, I don't see why not…" Saito murmured, and Arthur didn't want to know what opinions his professor was forming. "Eames is very unique, indifferent to social boundaries and a very good friend to have."

Arthur nodded and Saito shot a glance at Arthur's friends. "I can imagine your friends will have warned you about him. My advice is to disregard it."

Arthur blinked, but Saito waved him away. Recognising that the conversation was over, and that his professor had said all he was going to on the subject of Eames, Arthur thanked him and headed over to his friends, but he was not ignorant to the way Saito was considering him.

"Hey everyone." Arthur yawned, picking up his bag and smiling. Silence met his words and he glanced up, reading in his friends' stony expressions exactly what the problem was. His smile faded and his face hardened.

"Get it over with then." He said, icily. "I know what you're going to say, so go for it"

"I'm sorry, Arthur, but we have to intervene now." Mal started, angrily. "This _obsession_ with talking to Eames until all hours of the morning has got to stop. Have you looked in the mirror today? You look a total mess, you can barely stay awake!"

"Things can't carry on like this, Arthur. It's affecting your work now. If it was one of us, you would do the same. You don't want to screw up your work just because you've found someone on a different time zone." Ariadne said softly.

Arthur turned to Dom, who shook his head. "We've already had this discussion and I'm happy with what you told me. I think Mal and Ariadne just need convinced."

Arthur acknowledged Dom's words, and then turned back to the two girls, who shrank back a little at the coldness of his gaze. Both of them immediately recognised that Arthur was furious.

"I said this to Dom yesterday, and I'll say it to you now. I won't say it again." Arthur's voice was low, dangerous. Ariadne felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

"It is absolutely none of your business what I do in my spare time or what time I go to bed. You're supposedly my friends, _not _my parents. I had three hours sleep last night and none the night before because I was working on something for Jacques, as I do every weekend. I haven't spoken to Eames since Saturday morning before we went to Clarksons."

"Your work for Jacques does not usually take this long." Mal argued, stubbornly. Arthur sneered at her.

"He offered me a bigger assignment this week. Yusuf can confirm it because he rang me yesterday to explain why he was getting involved in my personal life." Arthur's voice contained an undertone that none of his friends had ever heard before; the usually placating personality had been replaced by something akin to scorn. Mal stood, obstinately, refusing to back down, but Ariadne had tears in her eyes, and it was her obvious misery that caused Arthur to calm down. He looked at his friends with disappointment.

"I value you as friends, but I won't have you meddling in my life." Arthur said firmly. "Until you can respect that my life is my own business, I don't think I can be around you."

He walked out of the classroom, away from his friends. Before he'd left the building, he heard Dom call out his name. He stopped and turned.

"Arthur, things don't have to be like this. Mal and Ariadne only did what I did on Saturday, yet you're willing to compromise with me." Dom frowned. While Arthur was his best friend, Mal was his girlfriend, and he did have a duty to try and maintain their friendship.

Arthur shook his head. "No, this wasn't anything like what happened on Saturday. You were willing to listen, your concern for me was the main reason you intervened. Mal and Ariadne had already made their minds up before I had a chance to speak. Unlike the girls, you were willing to listen. I don't want to argue with them, but they can't keep interfering in my private life."

Dom sighed. "Arthur, if you _were_ talking to Eames all night, and losing sleep, and possibly heading towards your grades dropping, wouldn't you want someone to stop you throwing your life away? You can't blame them for trying to be a good friend."

Arthur's expression softened slightly. "I know that. It's obvious their intentions are good. But I've been happy, for the last few days things have been great. And now…" he hesitated.

"And now?" Dom pressed.

"Now I'm beginning to wonder if I'm just not seeing something everyone else is. If Eames really is no good for me, and that I'm spending too much time talking to him. I just don't know if I can carry on talking to Eames and still feel as happy, when it's clearly the wrong thing for everyone else."

"Arthur…" Dom began, trying to reason with his friend, but Arthur waved him silent.

"Not now, Dom. I have a headache. My classes are over for today anyway. I'm going to go home and get some sleep. I'll call you later."

Arthur left the Sociology building weary and miserable. He just wanted things to return to normal, but it seemed like the only way that could happen was if he gave up his friendship with Eames. At that moment, walking across campus, Arthur didn't really feel like talking to the Brit at the moment; but he knew it was due to the quarrel with his friends. In ordinary circumstances he adored conversing with Eames and wasn't sure if he wanted to give it up.

He let himself in the door, and exhaustion overtook him. He just had enough time to drop his bag and stagger over to the bed before he passed out, fully clothed on top of the covers.

It was late evening when he woke up. The first thing Arthur noticed was that it was pretty dark outside. The second was the numerous missed calls and texts on his phone from Yusuf and Ariadne. Nothing from Mal, but Arthur wasn't surprised. She was very stubborn, always had been in the year Arthur had known her. Unfortunately, Arthur was the same, and as it stood, it seemed unlikely that either of them would be the first to apologise.

The first thing Arthur did was switch his computer on. While it was starting up, he returned Yusuf's call. Yusuf picked up immediately.

"Arthur, this is not cool." Yusuf said immediately. "I know exactly where you're coming from, and I've told Ariadne she needs to back off, but she has just spent the last few hours at my place, totally devastated. She was crying into my shoulder about how she'd lost her oldest friend for most of the afternoon."

Arthur felt incredibly guilty. He never intended to upset Ariadne to that point. He didn't speak, knowing Yusuf wasn't finished.

"You're my friend, Arthur, but Ariadne is my girlfriend, and when said girlfriend is breaking her heart and interrupting a major experiment in my kitchen, it's _not cool_. Whatever is going on, you need to sort it out, because I'm three hours behind a very tight schedule now."

"Look, this isn't my doing." Arthur argued. "I'm not just going to back down because Ariadne regrets her decision, or that it's interrupted your schedule, which I am sorry for by the way. She can't try and run my life and not expect repercussions."

Yusuf sighed. "I know that, Arthur. But you didn't see how devastated she was today. She's sorry, trust me."

Arthur sighed, feeling another headache coming on. "I'll call her now."

"She's at work now, on the late shift. You'll have to catch her tomorrow." He paused. "Listen, about Eames. I think it's great that you've hit it off with him. I know you well enough to know you're panicking, Arthur, that you think you're spending too much time talking to him. You're not, trust me. When Ari and I met, we were inseparable for about two weeks, remember? It's like that when it just clicks. Trust me. Eames is a good friend to have."

Arthur was reminded of Saito's words. He had also agreed that Eames was a good friend to have, but Arthur wasn't sure if Saito was warning him that Eames would make a bad enemy. He pushed that thought away, and said goodbye to Yusuf. They hung up and Arthur returned to the laptop. He had an e-mail from Eames, in response to the apology he'd sent the Brit on Saturday after he'd missed him.

_**Arthur,**_

_**Don't worry about it; I understand that your life doesn't revolve around our conversations, although I do hope you enjoy them.**_

_**I hope you've sorted things out with Dom, I don't like the idea that you're upset, Arthur. You seem so genuine, you don't deserve to be upset.**_

_**Get more sleep. This is an order :P**_

_**Now that sounds intriguing. Is this 'unofficial job' legal? It doesn't sound like it … ooh, Arthur has a bad side. I'd like to see it. Innuendo fully intended ;)**_

_**Looking forward to Monday.**_

_**Eames**_

Arthur read through the message twice, his early distress gone. Even a simple message from Eames served to totally change his mood. How could his friends be so against this? There was no downside to Eames, what you saw was what you got. He checked the remains of his inbox and saw Eames had also left him a Tweet. Opening Twitter, he logged in and found the message. It had been sent around an hour ago.

**Eames (forgewithstyle)**

**To: Penrose_Steps: Oi! I thought you were going to be about tonight? Bored :(**

Arthur hid his smile and tapped out a reply. He knew instantly that he would not give up the connection he had with the Brit.

**Arthur Levine (Penrose_Steps)**

**To: forgewithstyle: I'm on Skype. Have you missed me?**

He grinned, and signed onto Skype, waiting for it to connect. Just as his contact list loaded, an e-mail popped up to say Eames had Tweeted him again. Arthur clicked back to Twitter.

**Eames (forgewithstyle)**

**To: Penrose_Steps: Always. I thought you'd forgotten me :( Logging on now.**

Arthur felt his chest clench as he looked at the message and he repressed the feeling. Eames was a smooth talker, but that's all it was. A Don Juan of the internet; Arthur wouldn't fall for his charms, however charming the man may be.

The notification that Eames had signed in broke through his thoughts. Unable to hold back his grin, Arthur clicked to open a window.

**Arthur: Hello.**

Eames replied immediately.

**Eames: Hey hey ;)**

Arthur bit back a nasty retort at Eames' use of emoticons and instead focused on the conversation.

**Eames: Did you miss me then?**

**Arthur: Not a bit.**

**Eames: Awww :( that hurts, Artie.**

**Arthur: **_**Never **_**call me that again, or I promise you I will hire someone to hurt you more than my verbal rejection.**

**Eames: Ouch. Point duly noted. Did you sort things with Dom?**

Arthur frowned. He absolutely abhorred the nickname Artie. It was his pet hate. The frown deepened as he read the last message from Eames. While he didn't want to go running to Eames with his problems, the Brit had asked, and Arthur couldn't see anything wrong with opening up to his friend.

**Arthur: Things are fine, kind of. He listened when I explained. Unfortunately, Mal and Ariadne confronted me again this morning. I didn't react well.**

**Eames: What happened? It's fine if you'd rather not say.**

**Arthur: They decided I was staying up too late to talk to you across the time zones, which, due to your shifts, clearly isn't true. I managed to convince Dom I was tired because I was working late on my assignment, not because of you.**

**Eames: So why did Ariadne and Mal bring everything up again? Did Dom not explain?**

**Arthur: No, he did. But my 'unofficial job', the legality of which I shall neither confirm nor deny, allowed for about three hours sleep since Friday, and they immediately assumed my exhaustion was to do with you. I'd had enough of their meddling, and said so.**

**Eames: Oh.**

Arthur could guess everything Eames was thinking, but wasn't saying, and how much the man felt guilty for Arthur's troubles. He gave the Brit a little nudge, so there were no crossed wires.

**Arthur: Be direct Eames.**

**Eames: I feel bad that I'm responsible for you falling out with your friends.**

**Arthur: But you're not! I was up late because I had work to do, and they just assumed it was to do with you. I was angry because they seemed to blame you when they can't see that you've helped me in ways that no one else ever has. That our conversations are the highlight of my day.**

There was a pause before Eames replied. Arthur bit his lip, worried that he'd said the wrong thing, made the Brit uncomfortable.

**Eames: I'm glad. I've never had this … connection, if you like, with anyone else. It's good to know that you have that too. I don't want to hurt you, Arthur, but I could so easily.**

Arthur remembered Eames' warnings to Yusuf, which resulted in his quarrel with Dom. His face hardened and he resolved to ensure Eames didn't underestimate him again.

**Arthur: Ah yes, I'd forgotten about your helpful discussion with Yusuf. Now, listen carefully. I am fully aware of what you're capable of doing, how easily you could end our friendship, how simple it would be for you to threaten my personal safety since you know Yusuf. I have not underestimated you. You, on the other hand, have severely underestimated me. Do **_**not**_** pull a stunt like that again. Are we clear?**

**Eames: Crystal. I just feel like I would actually regret it if I was responsible for anything happening to you.**

**Arthur: And I appreciate that. Now, shall we consider that I've been duly warned, and forget about the whole thing?**

**Eames: Suits me :) so are you going to sort things out with Mal and Ariadne?**

**Arthur: I'm not sure about Mal. We're both pretty stubborn, so neither of us will apologise first. Ariadne's at work, so I can't apologise until tomorrow. Yusuf said she was really upset, and I feel awful.**

**Eames: That's a shame. I'm sure she'll be fine until tomorrow. So tell me more about this work that's stopped you entertaining me all weekend?**

Arthur laughed at Eames' blatant attempt to weasel information from him and shook his head, changing the subject. Eames' responses came slowly for the next ten minutes, and Arthur could tell he was distracted by something, but assumed it would be work related. Their conversation was pointless and teasing, until about an hour later, when Eames asked Arthur about himself.

**Eames: So tell me more about you? Your favourite things, food, drink, colour, film, book, etc.**

**Arthur: Alright. Don't laugh, but my favorite food is toast. It can be eaten at any time of day, with a variety of toppings, and it's simple to make, because I absolutely cannot cook. What's yours?**

**Eames: Well, if I intended to mock you, your argument has certainly swayed me. I guess mine would be cheesecake. It is just sheer heaven in cake form. Particularly toffee. Oh God, I'm hungry.**

**Arthur: Me too, I haven't actually eaten today. I'll probably order in later, if I can be bothered. Cheesecake is divine.**

**Eames: Indeed. Favourite drink? Can I just point out that there is a 'u' in favourite? Bloody Americans.**

**Arthur: 'Bloody' Brits. There is no 'u' in favorite. And my **_**favorite **_**drink is Pepsi**_**. **_**Yours?**

**Eames: I don't have a 'favorite'. But my **_**favourite**_** drink is tea. Since, you know, I'm English. Favourite colour?**

**Arthur: My **_**favorite color **_**is gray. What about yours?**

**Eames: Bloody yanks and your different way of spelling. Blue, I suppose. Typical manly colour. Why grey?**

Arthur considered this. He'd never had to think about it before, he'd just always liked it. He realised he'd never had to consider his choice before because nobody had ever cared enough to ask.

**Arthur: I'm not sure. I've just always liked it.**

**Eames: That's a good enough reason. Favourite film?**

**Arthur: The Matrix. Excellent series. Yours?**

**Eames: Never seen it. The Good, The Bad And The Ugly. Fantastic film, I grew up watching it. Until I was twelve I was convinced I was going to be a cowboy like Clint Eastwood. Have you seen it?**

**Arthur: Yeah, a few times. Epic choice.**

**Eames: You have excellent taste. Favourite book?**

**Arthur: Up until a few years ago, I'd have said Animal Farm. Now… I think I would say Mother Night, by Kurt Vonnegut.**

**Eames: I've never read any Vonnegut, although I own Slaughterhouse Five. I think for mine … I'd say Nineteen Eighty Four.**

Arthur blinked. Only a few days ago, Eames had expressed his distaste for the book, and now he claimed it was his favourite book.

**Eames: I finished it over the weekend, because I had nothing better to do. You were right, I was looking at it from the wrong perspective. I read it again, looking at things differently, and I can now appreciate why it's so revered.**

**Arthur: It's a good book, although I do prefer Animal Farm.**

A knock at the door tore Arthur away from his screen. He frowned, since he wasn't expecting anyone.

"Just a minute." He called, typing to Eames that he would be right back. He moved over to the door, and opened it. Ariadne was standing there, holding a pizza box.

"Delivery for Arthur?" She mumbled, unable to meet his gaze. Arthur pulled her in for a hug, and Ariadne sobbed into his neck.

"Arthur, I'm so sorry. I don't want to fall out with you, I've know you for years and I never meant for this to happen." She wept. Arthur rubbed her shoulder, consolingly.

"It's fine, Ari, honestly. Forget about it. It's all in the past."

Ariadne wiped her eyes and tried to hand Arthur the pizza box she had with her.

"What's this?" He asked, bemused, wondering if it was her attempt at bribery. Ariadne frowned, looking at the box.

"It's the pizza you ordered? Nicole gave me the address, and the pizza was what you always order. She said you'd asked for me specifically. I thought you'd ordered it so we could talk?"

Arthur shook his head slowly. "I didn't order a pizza. I was going to call you tomorrow to talk."

Ariadne's frown deepened. "It's already paid for, so you might as well keep it. I have to go now, I have another delivery. When I get back, I'll see if Nicole knows who ordered."

Arthur nodded, and said goodbye, once again assuring her that it was fine, and they would talk tomorrow. He shut the door and took the box over to his laptop, sitting down and munching on a slice.

**Arthur: I'm back. Ariadne was at the door.**

**Eames: Ah, so you'll have a chance to sort things out then? I've got to dash for tonight, Arthur, I have to do a quick patrol and then I'm going to the far end, which doesn't have Wi-Fi. I'll be around tomorrow if you're free.**

**Arthur: Yeah, I'll be here. Enjoy work.**

**Eames: Have a good night, Arthur.**

Arthur stared at the pizza box, a suspicion growing in his mind. He dialled Yusuf's number, who picked up the phone immediately.

"Arthur, what can I do for you?"

Arthur got straight to the point. "Did you order a pizza and send it to my flat so I could talk to Ariadne."

"No." Yusuf said, but Arthur could hear the hesitation before he spoke, and he rolled his eyes.

"So if I asked Ariadne to check the payment information, your card wouldn't be the method of payment?"

He heard Yusuf's intake of breath. "No, I don't know what you're talking about. I have to go, I'm at an extremely vital stage in my hypothesis and I can't afford to be distracted. I'll catch you soon." Yusuf babbled, hanging up.

Arthur let out a chuckle and hung up the phone. He turned back to his laptop, his theory more or less confirmed. Yusuf wouldn't have thought of ordering a pizza so Arthur and Ariadne could talk. While Yusuf was a chemistry genius, he was socially inept and floundered when dealing with drama. Arthur clicked open his Twitter and opened a new message.

**Arthur Levine (Penrose_Steps)**

**To: forgewithstyle: Thank you.**

He sent the Tweet and closed the window, reaching for another slice of pizza, unable to hide the wide grin that spread across his face.

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**Sorry for the delay, I just wanted to make sure this chapter was perfect, and I couldn't work out how to end it. I hope this is good enough.**

**Please review, I really want to make sure you're all enjoying it so far, your support is the reason I keep writing. Thank you so much. -DD**


	7. A Million Different Roads

**Hey everyone! Sorry it's been like two or three weeks since I updated. My laptop overheated and melted the charger, so I had no way to update. In return for your patience, I've made this chapter a little longer than previous, and it's following our favourite forger instead of Arthur. Hope you like it.**

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**Chapter Seven: A Million Different Roads**

Eames read the message from Arthur with dismay. It was clear that Arthur's friends didn't like him. He wasn't sure exactly why he felt so sad. His warning had worked; he'd fully intended to put Arthur's friends on their guard. It didn't explain his misery over their obvious dislike, nor why their opinions seemed to mean anything to him. Eames supposed that it wasn't _their_ opinion that mattered; it was the possibility that they might change Arthur's.

**Eames: Oh.**

He couldn't think of anything else to say. He felt incredibly guilty that he was indirectly responsible for why Arthur was feeling so low.

**Arthur: Be direct Eames.**

Eames mouth quirked up in one corner. Nothing seemed to escape Arthur's notice, and his preference for directness made Eames laugh.

**Eames: I feel bad that I'm responsible for you falling out with your friends.**

**Arthur: But you're not! I was up late because I had work to do, and they just assumed it was to do with you. I was angry because they seemed to blame you when they can't see that you've helped me in ways that no one else ever has. That our conversations are the highlight of my day.**

Eames read Arthur's message twice, a pounding in his chest. His mouth went dry and he reached out blindly for his bottle of water, unwilling to tear his eyes away from the screen in case he'd somehow imagined the words. He gulped down the water, feeling his heart soar. Arthur, too, felt the connection that had sprung up between them ever since their first conversation.

**Eames: ****I'm glad. I've never had this … connection, if you like, with anyone else. It's good to know that you have that too. I don't want to hurt you, Arthur, but I could so easily.**

**Arthur: Ah yes, I'd forgotten about your helpful discussion with Yusuf. Now, listen carefully. I am fully aware of what you're capable of doing, how easily you could end our friendship, how simple it would be for you to threaten my personal safety since you know Yusuf. I have not underestimated you. You, on the other hand, have severely underestimated me. Do **_**not**_** pull a stunt like that again. Are we clear?**

Eames grinned at Arthur's sudden display of feistiness. It seemed that, although the American was full of surprises, Eames couldn't find a single fault with him. Arthur was amazing.

**Eames: Crystal. I just feel like I would actually regret it if I was responsible for anything happening to you.**

**Arthur: And I appreciate that. Now, shall we consider that I've been duly warned, and forget about the whole thing?**

Eames' grin grew even wider. Arthur was something else. He'd never known anyone like him.

**Eames: Suits me :) so are you going to sort things out with Mal and Ariadne?**

**Arthur: I'm not sure about Mal. We're both pretty stubborn, so neither of us will apologise first. Ariadne's at work, so I can't apologise until tomorrow. Yusuf said she was really upset, and I feel awful.**

It was patently obvious to Eames that Arthur was miserable, even before the American admitted it. Yusuf had told him that Arthur had met Ariadne in high school, and that if Dom was his best friend, then Ariadne was a close second. It seemed such a shame that they would both spend the night miserable, when a simple conversation could result in uplifting in both their moods. His eyes lit up as he remembered Ariadne was a delivery girl. A plan began formulating in his head. He'd have to ask Yusuf for help; he couldn't pull it off alone, and he didn't want anyone to know he'd been involved. He felt that the knowledge of his role would diminish the effect of the reconciliation, in that he imagined Ariadne would blow a fuse. No, the focus needed to be on Arthur and Ariadne sorting things out.

With his plan perfected and ready to put in motion, Eames changed the subject, only half-concentrating on the conversation with Arthur as he dialled Yusuf's number. It rang for a full minute before Yusuf picked up.

"Eames! This is becoming a regular occurrence." He sounded surprised, yet breathless.

"Is this a bad time?" Eames asked, hesitantly. If Yusuf was too busy to help, there was no-one else Eames could ask.

Yusuf chuckled. "No, but I only have fifteen minutes before I have to add hydrochloric acid into my solution, so…"

"This will only take a minute." Eames promised. "Arthur told me about the argument."

Yusuf sighed, and Eames could imagine him pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Yeah." He said eventually. "I've explained everything to Ariadne. She won't get involved again. It was just difficult to see her like that, you know? She was crying on my sofa all evening. I have to work through tonight now; I'm so behind schedule."

Eames made a noise of sympathy. He knew how rigid Yusuf's schedule could be.

Yusuf sighed again. "Anyway, enough about my problems. What can I do for you?"

The Brit grinned. "This is going to sound mad."

"This is you we're talking about, Eames. If it wasn't, I'd be worried." He could practically feel Yusuf's returning grin.

"I need you to order me a pizza. I'll wire you the cash." He smiled.

"Sure. But why can't you?"

"I don't actually know the address I'm sending it to." Eames admitted.

Yusuf was silent. Then –

"You're sending Arthur a pizza? Why?" Yusuf chuckled "A prank or a present?"

"Well, a present I suppose. Of a kind. It's more the delivery girl than the pizza. The food is just a bonus."

Yusuf laughed loudly. "Eames, you are a genius. Truly. Don't worry about the cash; it's worth fifteen bucks for them to sort things out. I'll order it now."

"Make sure to specifically ask for Ariadne, or it's pointless. And Yusuf? Arthur can't know I had anything to do with this."

"You never let anyone see the best of you, Eames." Yusuf sighed. "Okay, I won't say anything to him _or _Ari. But I gotta go, my solution will be done soon. I'll call you tomorrow and let you know how things went. Goodnight."

The call ended and Eames wished he knew Arthur well enough that he could have organised this alone. But he didn't have his address, or knew what type of pizza he liked. He reflected on that for a moment, deciding to make a conscious effort to find out more about his American friend. Caught up in their light teasing, it was around an hour later when Eames found his opportunity, as the conversation dwindled.

He was surprised by more than one of Arthur's answers. He expected the American to be extensively cultured and have expensive taste; enjoying caviar and sparkling water and reading something tedious but revered; like Atlas Shrugged. Which _was _a classic; Eames had attempted it himself. Of over a thousand pages, he had managed fifteen. His new fondness for Nineteen Eighty-Four being the excepion, dystopia novels were not Eames' cup of tea.

But Arthur proved once again that there was more depth to him than his cutting personality showed; revealing that he was every bit a college student as any other person his age; preferring toast and Pepsi and reading Kurt Vonnegut.

Eames considered all of his own choices carefully. It had been a long time since he'd gotten to know someone who cared enough to ask him questions and he wanted to make the most of it. When the talk turned to their favourite colours, Eames glanced down at the hideous salmon pink shirt which was a main feature of his uniform. There was nothing more emasculate than being forced to wear a colour with the connotations of being feminine. It was this which prompted him to confess that his favourite colour was blue.

When Arthur said he would be right back, Eames allowed himself a small smile. It had to be Ariadne. He opened his plans for Cobol, and clicked into his browser. Within a few minutes, he had his last detail. He opened a blank e-mail and attached the plans. As he pressed send, Arthur returned, and sure enough, he mentioned that Ariadne had stopped by. Eames, unaware that she had already left, made an excuse to allow Arthur to concentrate on making up with his friend. He didn't lie; he did have to patrol and visit the far end of the facility, but he would be back within forty five minutes.

Having no reason to rush back, Eames strolled around the facility at a leisurely pace, keeping an eye out for any potential intruders. He was thorough; although the storage facility had yet to have a break in for as long as Eames had worked there, that was not to say it wouldn't happen and Eames had no intention of allowing a break in on his watch.

When he eventually got back to his laptop, he had two unread e-mails. Opening them, he saw one from Cobol, and one from Twitter, informing him that Arthur had sent him a message. His mouse hovered over the e-mail from Cobol, ready to click, before he moved down and opened the e-mail from Twitter, following the link to log in. He opened the message, refusing to think about what his priorities were.

**Penrose_Steps: Thank you.**

He couldn't stop the grin that spread over his face and he shook his head in amazement. Nothing escaped Arthur. Not only had he figured out, he actually appreciated Eames' help. He returned to his e-mails and opened the reply from Cobol Engineering. The grin faded as he read the curt message in dismay.

_**Leave tomorrow.**_

Eames loved working for Cobol. While some aspects of his job weren't ideal, he couldn't imagine doing anything else. His favourite part of the job was the field work. He loved travelling to different countries, having planned his route into near impregnable buildings and stealing priceless artefacts. The job he had just been instructed to undertake was one he'd had his eye on for almost a year. A fifteenth century vase in one of Italy's most guarded museums. It was challenging, and Eames had been working on the plans for months. Now, however, the job couldn't have come at a worse time. After the argument Arthur had only just had with his friends about Eames, he was worried that he would come back and the American would want nothing more to do with him. Eames' brow furrowed as reached for his pack of cigarettes, lighting one up and inhaling deeply. The fact that he only smoked when upset was proof of how much Arthur had become part of Eames' routine.

Eames couldn't decide what to do. On one hand, he couldn't refuse the job he had been planning for months; even if he wanted to, Cobol wouldn't allow him to pull out. On the other hand, if he did go, there was the possibility he would return and Arthur wouldn't be interested anymore. Eames didn't know how Arthur had become such a big part of his daily routine in such a short space of time, but he did know that he enjoyed their conversations. Arthur made him feel like he was worth something and he trusted him. Eames had almost forgotten what it was like to have someone trust him so completely. He didn't want to lose that.

But he had to go. His hands were tied. Either way, Arthur deserved to know he wouldn't be around for a while. He clicked to Skype, signing in. He sighed in relief when he saw Arthur was still online.

**Eames: Oh good, you're still here.**

**Arthur: Just about to head off actually. Was there something you wanted to talk to me about?**

**Eames: Yeah, I wanted to let you know that I won't be around for a while.**

**Arthur: Oh?**

**Eames: I've got to go somewhere for an unspecified amount of time, and I won't be online or anything.**

**Arthur: Oh, okay.**

He could practically feel Arthur's disappointment and felt guilty. While he knew his life would be on the line if Cobol found out he was sharing any details with Arthur, he knew that his friend deserved to know more than cryptic hints.

**Eames: It's for my other job. I've literally just found out that I've got to leave the country tomorrow.**

**Arthur: Ah, that makes sense. Can I ask where? I don't mind if you can't give me specifics, but you can narrow it down to a continent, right?**

Eames chuckled. Arthur was trying not to be too inquisitive, learning the boundaries concerning Eames' other job. But while he laughed, Eames was grateful that Arthur respected his space.

**Eames: My job isn't **_**that**_** top secret. I'm going to Italy.**

**Arthur: Oh. I've always wanted to go to Italy. Venice in particular. It's a shame we won't get to chat. I've grown used to our conversations and I'll miss them.**

**Eames: I hear Venice is lovely, although I've never been. I feel exactly the same. Listen, Arthur, I can't contact anyone while I'm away. It's too risky.**

**Arthur: Doesn't it get lonely?**

Eames felt a lump rise in his throat and he swallowed. Yes, it could get lonely. His whole lifestyle was lonely. He hadn't spoken to his mum in nearly two years. Hadn't had a friend since Yusuf went back to LA after his exchange year and Eames had taken the job with Cobol. Yes, it was lonely, and it wasn't ideal. But he was doing what he loved, and could deal with solitude if that was what it took to carry on doing the job he really enjoyed.

**Eames: I suppose, but before I met you I only really spoke to Yusuf, and I don't really miss a nightly phone call.**

**Arthur: Can you read e-mails while you're away?**

**Eames: Yeah, why?**

**Arthur: I'll send you one every night. It's not much, but hopefully it'll be better than being totally alone.**

**Eames: I'd like that, Arthur.**

Eames was glad Arthur would miss their nightly conversations as much as he would, although he was looking forward to travelling again. It had been close to three months since he'd last pulled a job for Cobol, and he was beginning to get restless. It was one of the reasons he'd relied so heavily on his friendship with Yusuf, and then Arthur, in order to alleviate the boredom and monotony of London.

He would look forward to it a little more 0if he was able to talk to Arthur when he was gone. But he would settle for simply hearing from Arthur, even if they couldn't hold a full conversation.

**Arthur: What time do you leave?**

**Eames: Sometime in the early afternoon, no doubt. I'll have to go in a few minutes. And you were going to bed and I've kept you up.**

**Arthur: Don't worry about it. An extra half an hour won't make any difference. Besides, I'm not at college on Tuesdays. I work most of the afternoon.**

**Eames: Oh well, I feel a little less guilty then. Listen, I have to go. I'd give you a time frame, but it's subject to change. I could be home tomorrow, or it could take a month. But I'll let you know as soon as I'm back, okay?**

**Arthur: Okay. Well, enjoy yourself? Have fun? Not sure if those sentiments are right for whatever it is you'll be doing.**

Eames let out a chuckle, which echoed around the facility. He jumped in surprise and then shook his head at his foolishness. Glancing at the clock, he saw his shift was about to end, so he began to pack up his belongings.

**Eames: They're fine :) I intend to.**

**Arthur: Look after yourself, Eames.**

**Eames: Take care, Arthur x**

Eames had shut down his laptop and was halfway across the car park before he realised he'd sent Arthur a kiss. He stopped dead, horrified for a moment. It wasn't that he didn't find Arthur kiss-worthy; the American was very handsome. The issue was that Arthur, however lovely, was tightly wound and had the potential to take major offence. Realising that there was nothing he could do about it now, and certain that it wasn't worthy of an apology, Eames shrugged and headed home to get some much needed sleep before he had to get up and fly to Italy.

Walking in the front door, Eames was greeted with the sight of his flatmate, Rob, clad only in his underwear, making a cup of coffee.

"Morning," Eames nodded, tiredly.

Rob greeted him and gestured to the coffee. He shook his head, answering the silent question before shrugging off his jacket.

"No thanks, mate. I'm going to get a few hours of much needed sleep, and then I've got to leave."

Rob nodded. "Going abroad again? Been a while since you were away."

While Eames hadn't told his flatmate about Cobol, he felt he owed some sort of explanation for when he disappeared on a job, knowing he could be away for weeks at a time. Eames knew Rob was perfectly content to let him disappear all over the world whenever he pleased, as long as Eames didn't evict him while he was away. Similarly, Eames was happy to leave Rob in the flat as long as he paid his rent on time and kept it tidy. As roommates go, Eames was really pleased with Rob. They understood each other perfectly.

"Yeah. Boss needs me to go to Italy this time. Need to stay until the job's done, so I'm not even sure how long I'll be gone." He chose his words carefully. He didn't like lying, preferring to maintain at least some shred of honesty in his life. In his eyes, half-truths were better than a downright lie.

"It must be nice, travelling for your job." Rob said quietly, his eyes distant. "I had a chance at a good job once, but I blew it and now nobody worthwhile will hire me."

Eames stared at him in surprise. He hadn't known that Rob was struggling to find a job. They'd lived together for around a year, and he'd never once been late with the rent, or even a penny short. He'd assumed Rob worked nightshift the same as he did, since he always seemed to head to bed when Eames came in from work. He opened his mouth to offer to help him out with a job at the storage facility, but closed it again in realisation. If Rob needed his help, he would ask for it. He clearly had no problems finding the rent each month. And then there was his wording. Nobody _worthwhile _would hire him. He had good qualifications, and Eames could tell from his mannerisms that Rob had been treated to a good upbringing. He was probably just struggling to adjust to the fact that his prospects had changed.

Rob shook his head, breaking away from his train of thought. He turned to Eames, smiling, but Eames could read in his face that it was forced.

"Anyway, forget about me. Enjoy yourself in Italy, don't work too hard."

Eames recognised the dismissal, and headed off to bed. He stripped to his boxers, folding his uniform and placing it neatly on the armchair. He'd already packed; everything he would need for the trip was in the suitcase that he never emptied in case he had to leave quickly. Cobol would make sure his shifts at the facility were covered and that the usual private plane would be waiting. They were thorough about security, and most of Eames' 'tools' could not be taken on a public flight. Besides, the money they made from a single job was enough to cover all expenses.

Satisfied that he would be ready to leave after he'd had a short sleep, Eames set his alarm and then got into bed, drifting off into a peaceful slumber.

When he woke up, his flatmate had gone out. Eames had a quick breakfast of sorts, consisting of orange juice and a bacon sandwich, even though it was well past lunchtime. After he'd finished, he grabbed his case and left, locking the door behind him. He took the underground to Heathrow and made his way to the terminal, only stopping to pick up his tickets from the check-in desk, once more appreciating how thorough Cobol Engineering were to work for.

He found himself on the plane by 3pm. Eames grimaced as he took his seat. He could never get comfortable on flights. Flying wasn't something he enjoyed at all. He couldn't concentrate on anything; reading, watching a film… he couldn't even sleep. After about an hour, Eames decided to check his e-mails to see if Cobol had sent him any further instructions. He connected to the plane's Wi-Fi and logged in. There was nothing from Cobol, but there was one from Arthur, sent a few minutes before. He opened it eagerly.

_**Eames,**_

_**I don't even know if you'll have left yet, but I'll send the e-mail regardless, in case you're bored.**_

Eames grinned. Arthur had no idea exactly how bored he was. He continued reading.

_**I'm not sure what to say in a one-sided conversation. I presume that you're meant to talk about yourself, but nothing's really new since we last spoke a few hours ago. I'm just going to type whatever I think of and to hell with the consequences. I'm done with censoring how I feel in order to make people feel more comfortable.**_

Eames' grin slid away to a frown. It didn't take a genius to work out that something had upset Arthur. Whatever it was, it had been enough to loosen his tongue a little. Perhaps an argument with one of his friends.

_**Actually, there was something I forgot to tell you before you went. I spoke to Saito about our conversation and asked if he remembered you. If I'm honest, I didn't expect him to. But you were right, he did. He said you were one of his best students, at least one of the most entertaining. He also said you were very amusing, which leads me to question whether we were actually talking about the same person?**_

So far, there didn't seem to be anything that Arthur would regret once he calmed down. Eames grinned at the acerbic comment that was just so _Arthur_. He felt he was beginning to understand the American quite well. He was also mildly impressed that Saito remembered him. He had only expected his former professor to have a vague recollection of him.

_**I hope you don't mind, but I was curious about you. If someone like Saito can remember one student he taught in London, you must have a pretty memorable personality. I asked him what you were like in person. I'm sort of imagining you frowning as you read this, feeling like I'm being too inquisitive, in which case, I really do apologise. It's just that we talk quite a lot, considering how long it's been since we were introduced. And for me, things aren't always in black and white where people are. People you trust, who you think you know, and then there are shades of gray you never even dreamed of.**_

Definitely an argument. Eames initially toyed with the idea that it might be Arthur's bitterness towards an ex-partner coming out, but he didn't think Arthur was the type to bitch about an ex. He would be the type of person to keep his relationships private. He wondered if it was the other girl Arthur had mentioned, the one that wasn't Ariadne. Eames struggled to recall her name. _Mal_, that was it, he remembered eventually. He continued reading, recognising that speculating wouldn't give him any answers.

_**Anyway, he said you were unique, indifferent to social boundaries, and a very good friend to have. He also mentioned that my friends would probably try to warn me about you. I guess he knows of Ariadne's relationship with Yusuf. I'm not sure how, though. Although he is an expert on social networking. It would make sense that he had a Twitter or a Facebook or something. But for the warnings, he also told me to disregard them. He wouldn't say any more, but I can draw my own conclusions. I'll save those for another e-mail, at another time.**_

Eames read Arthur's words with growing interest. So Saito had said all that? Hmm, he must have remembered Eames more clearly than he'd thought. Arthur's deduction that Saito used a social networking site was probably sound. There were occasions when he'd been at college where Saito had seemed to know more about current events in student's lives than he should have. He'd never considered that Saito could have a Twitter account.

He also wondered about the conclusions Arthur had drawn about him. He felt a pang of disappointment that Arthur hadn't included those in the e-mail. Eames was fascinated to know what Arthur thought of him.

_**I guess I'm more worked up than I thought. You're clearly more observant than I give you credit for, so I'll admit now and hopefully quench your curiosity. Mal and I had words again this morning and she told me a few things about my personality that, while I cannot deny, I didn't particularly like. I'll spare you the major details, but one comment in particular implied that I took myself too seriously, and act like I'm double my age, so I'm going to attempt to relax a little and hope I don't come across as too intimidating.**_

_**And now, at a guess, I'd say you're frowning at the screen, thinking that I shouldn't change for anyone and I'm fine the way I am, and people who understand how I am are the people that matter. Or maybe I'm totally wrong, and you're indifferent, and you don't care all that much or haven't given too much thought into the matter. In which case, I'm sorry for rambling.**_

_**I hope you enjoy your trip, Eames. I'll miss talking to you, it's been so long since I've found anyone who I have so much in common with. I think Saito was right, you are a good friend to have, and I hope that's what we are, or are at least on the way to being friends.**_

_**Arthur x**_

Eames was gobsmacked. There was no other word for it. That Arthur felt like that was just astounding to him. He made up his mind that he was going to write a response to every single one of Arthur's e-mails on paper, and then reply as soon as he got home. There were some things in that e-mail alone that warranted addressing. He reached for a piece of paper and a pen, and began steadily working on his reply.

Deep in thought, Eames didn't notice the flight attendant approaching.

"Sir?" She said brightly. Eames looked up in surprise. "You need to put your seatbelt on, sir. We'll be landing in fifteen minutes."

Eames blinked and looked at his watch. Sure enough, he'd spent around two hours working on his reply alone. He let a small smile grace his face as he fastened his seatbelt and returned to his writing. So Arthur had even managed to distract him from his discomfort of flying. When he reached the bottom of his e-mail, he paused. Reaching for his phone, he spotted the small x after Arthur's name. The small smile grew into a fully blown grin as Eames sat back in his seat, feeling unusually elated.

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**If you like it, please review and tell me so! I'm thinking in a chapter or two I might get them to use Skype properly and video call each other. What do you think? -DD**


	8. A Million Miles

**Sorry about the delay; I've had so many assignments due in myself, I know exactly how Arthur feels! This chapter focuses on the effects Eames has on Arthur, and how good he can be for him, and Mal's resentment. Enjoy!**

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**Chapter Eight: A Million Miles**

True to his word, every morning for six days Arthur sent Eames an e-mail. After the first, however, Arthur adopted an approach a lot less personal. He still talked about himself, but stuck to topics like where he'd like to visit if he ever travelled, and didn't approach the subject of Mal or his friendship with Eames at all. While he didn't regret the e-mail he'd sent after a few home truths from Mal had left him emotional; he was a little embarrassed. Part of him felt he'd looked like a fool, but a bigger part of him had listened to Mal's words, and insisted that he needed to show more emotion. Mostly, he just felt frightened that Eames had seen him with all his walls down.

Things had been awkward, since he had sorted things out with Ariadne. Mal was convinced that Arthur had ordered the pizza in order to make up with Ariadne, and that it was a slight towards her. Yusuf had wanted to come clean, but Arthur had begged his silence, knowing that Eames' involvement would only serve to enrage Mal further. In her temper, Mal had unleashed a few low blows as to her opinion on Arthur's inability to speak to anyone outside of his social circle after Nash betrayed him. Yusuf, Dom and Ariadne had been absolutely furious when they had found out what Mal had said to him. Arthur had begged the day off work from Miles, and spent the day in his room, lost in thought. His friends had called repeatedly, but Arthur had avoided their calls. Two days later, he had cancelled movie night. There had been uproar. For two years, no one had ever missed or cancelled movie night. It just wasn't done. Ariadne had turned up at Arthur's dorm, in tears and begging Arthur to forgive Mal.

Dom had also turned up and Arthur had wanted to see him least of all. Dom's expression had borne more pain that Arthur had ever seen before when Arthur had closed the door in his face, unwilling to speak to him.

"Arthur? Why won't you talk to me? I thought we were okay?" Dom called through the door.

Arthur shook his head numbly, forgetting Dom couldn't see him. "When you're here to tell me to forgive your girlfriend?" He replied, miserably.

Dom was silent. "Is that really what you think of me?" He said quietly. "That after what she said, I would ask you to forgive her? I wouldn't blame you if you never spoke to her again."

Arthur opened the door. "Then what do you want?"

"To tell you that what Mal said isn't what we all think." Dom said seriously. "I've known you almost all my life, Arthur. I know that Nash hurt you, and I've never done anything but support you. How can you think this of me now?"

"I didn't think it of Mal until she said it." Arthur murmured. "Is that what she's thought of me this whole time?"

Dom shook his head, sadly. "I don't know, Arthur. Look, I don't agree with what she said to you. But that shouldn't affect things with the rest of us. Don't cancel movie night. I promise she won't say anything else."

Arthur nodded, too tired to argue. "Fine. I'll see you in a few hours."

As usual, everyone had turned up on time, but Mal had been unusually silent. Arthur had presumed she hadn't wanted to speak to him, but just before they'd put the film on (Reservoir Dogs, incidentally, since it was Arthur's choice), she'd turned to Arthur and softly asked if she could use his kitchen.

"Of course." He'd blinked, uncertainly. She got up and left without another word. Ariadne had glared after her, but a frown from Dom and a shake of the head from Arthur stopped her. After a few minutes, Mal had returned, with a plate, which she handed to Arthur. He looked down at it, and saw a slice of her special homemade cake. Arthur's eyes softened as he looked at it.

"I'm sorry, my friend." Mal said quietly. "I never meant any of those cruel things I said. I hope you can forgive me."

"Always." Arthur said, taking her hand. "But you need to know, I didn't order that pizza, Mal."

Something darkened in Mal's expression. "I believe you," She said coldly. "But I have a good idea who did."

"I did." Yusuf spoke up. Everyone turned to look at him. "I didn't think it would turn into this. Ari had spent most of the day crying on my sofa, and I'm on a really tight schedule for work at the minute. I knew Ari would keep getting upset if it wasn't sorted, so I sent her here."

Mal was taken aback. "Oh! Then we'll say no more about it." She said warmly. Dom moved over and switched the DVD player on before anything more could be said, to Arthur's relief. Mal had come dangerously close to working out that it had been Eames.

The night had passed by uneventfully, as had the subsequent days now Arthur and Mal had made up. Exactly one week after Eames had left, Arthur sent his usual morning e-mail. Ten minutes later, as he was adding the finishing touches to his Sociology assignment, a reply came through. Arthur's heart leapt as he opened the e-mail.

_**Arthur,**_

_**I very much enjoyed hearing from you this week. Your e-mails have made a lonely week a lot brighter. I hope things are well, and I'm very glad that you've sorted things out with your friends.**_

_**I enjoyed your first e-mail quite a lot. You're rarely so forthcoming. I assume it was a one-off, since you were under emotional strain at the time. However, I have a lot of things I wish to say in regards to the aforementioned message :) I'll send that e-mail after I've finished this one.**_

_**I don't start back at work until tomorrow, so if you let me know what time you finish work, I'll sleep now, and make sure I'm online for when you get home.**_

_**Eames x**_

Arthur grinned. Eames was back! He clicked reply and began typing.

_**Eames,**_

_**I hope your job went well. I'm really glad your back.**_

_**I'm going to assume there's no way you'll pretend I didn't send that e-mail?**_

_**Today isn't too bad; I finish at 5pm, should put it around 1am your time.**_

_**I've gotta head off to work now. Looking forward to talking to you tonight.**_

_**Arthur x**_

He sent the message then shut his laptop down, heading off to work. Since he had no college on Tuesdays, he worked an extra shift at the library, but he finished quite early, so it wasn't all bad. Arthur made his way across campus to the library. He pushed open the old oak doors and made his way to the check in desk.

"Morning Arthur." Miles smiled at him. Arthur nodded, offering his own brief smile in return.

"Good morning, Mr Miles." Arthur replied dutifully. "Where should I start?"

"Well, Amy hasn't turned in this morning, so I'm a little rushed. I can stay on the front desk if you want to start on the returns and the overdue books."

Arthur nodded and hurried away to start work. He logged all of the returns and sorted them into the correct sections, before starting on the list of overdue books. There weren't too many, but there was one overdue from short term collections, and the fines were a dollar an hour the book was late. It was already an hour overdue of the four hours allotted, so Arthur followed the protocol, and brought it to Miles' attention, who was getting more flustered by the second.

"I'll need to use the tannoy. Give me a minute, I need to find that psychology book I just had for that young lady that was just here." He said, searching his desk for the missing book. Arthur spotted it under Miles' teacup and picked it up, pressing it into his employer's hand and pointing him in the direction of the girl who was searching for it.

"What would I do without you, Arthur?" Miles sighed, scuttling away. Arthur shook his head, grinning, and moved over to the microphone. He'd never used it before, preferring to let Miles do it, but seeing how stressed the older man was, Arthur took pity on him.

"Good morning, if anyone is in possession of _Contesting The French Revolution, _by _Paul R. Hanson_, can I remind you that it is a short term loan and is now overdue. That's the person in possession of_ Contesting The French Revolution, _by_ Paul R. Hanson_, please contact the front desk to return it. Thank you."

He blushed, and moved away from the microphone, hurrying over to the trolley to begin the reshelving. There was so much to do; Arthur's shift finished before he'd put back half of them. He glanced at the trolley, torn between staying to finish and going home to talk to Eames. He shook himself, and carried on with the reshelving. Miles needed him more than Eames did. After around ten minutes, Stephen spotted him.

"Arthur, what are you still doing here? Your shift finished ten minutes ago."

Arthur nodded at the trolley. "These need to be put back."

"Don't worry about it, you get yourself home. I can manage until Sarah gets in."

Arthur hesitated. "Are you sure?"

Miles smiled at him affectionately. "Of course. You're the best worker I've ever had here, Arthur. Go on. I'll see you tomorrow."

Arthur thanked him and left the library. Walking across campus, he pulled out his phone and fired off a quick e-mail to Eames.

_**Eames,**_

_**I got held up, but I'm on my way home now. I'll be ten minutes.**_

_**Arthur x**_

Arthur hurried home, not even bothering to shed his jacket before he switched his computer on and signed into Skype. Eames was already online, waiting for him. Arthur opened a conversation, but Eames beat him to it.

**Eames: Well hello there, stranger :)**

**Arthur: Hey! Welcome back.**

**Eames: Thanks :D how have you been?**

**Arthur: Good thanks, things have been pretty average around here. You?**

**Eames: Can't complain.**

**Arthur: I hope your job went well.**

**Eames: Successfully. Miss me?**

**Arthur: Surprisingly, I did. It's been quiet without you.**

**Eames: I missed you too :)**

Arthur smiled, his eyes shining as he repressed the grin threatening to spread over his face. Eames certainly knew how to make him smile.

**Arthur: So what are you up to now you're back?**

**Eames: I'm at work :(**

**Arthur: When you only got back this morning? That's not good.**

**Eames: You're telling me. But my other employers will only arrange for someone to cover me while I'm out of the country, and I like working here. I'll be fine by tomorrow, but I'm just pretty tired now.**

**Arthur: Why do you work two jobs? I know that you have a less than reputable line of work, but why do you have a legitimate job too? For cover?**

**Eames: Partly. Not exactly though. I cut off everyone when I took this job. It's been nearly two years since I last saw my own mother. London is all I have to stay close to my family, even if I can't see them. Being tied down to a job means my employer can't set me up in another country. I can keep my home.**

**Arthur: Oh. I'm sorry, I didn't even think.**

**Eames: Don't worry about it; you weren't to know. Besides, I like working here. Aside from the horrible uniform.**

**Arthur: What's your uniform like?**

**Eames: Pink. A disgusting, salmon pink shirt and green trousers.**

Arthur read Eames description of his uniform and bit back a laugh. Nobody could have fashion sense that terrible. There was no way a uniform could be issued that was so hideous. Eames simply had to be lying.

**Arthur: What's it really like?**

**Eames: I just told you. Upon my word of honour, I have uttered no lies.**

**Arthur: Can I see? Send me a pic?**

There was silence for a few moments, and Arthur began to worry Eames was uncomfortable with the idea of exchanging photographs. Maybe he didn't want Arthur to know what he looked like, other than his Twitter photo. He began to retract his request.

**Eames: Well, I draw the line at posing, but I could open a video call if you were willing? I'm afraid I can't speak though, I need to be able to hear any security breaches.**

Arthur blinked. He hadn't been expecting that. He glanced down at himself to see what he was wearing. A shirt, sweater vest and tie. His hair was slicked back, and he thought he looked okay. There was no reason he couldn't participate in a video call.

**Arthur: Alright.**

The request came through, and Arthur accepted, muting his microphone. He could hear the crackling of the connection for a second, before it went silent, signifying that Eames too had muted his microphone. The screen stayed dark for a moment, before the video loaded. Handsome grey eyes stared back at Arthur, as the man he'd been conversing with for the last two weeks waved at him. He waved back, bashfully, suddenly overcome with shyness. Eames grinned at him, and then stood, gesturing to his uniform, which truly was the most hideous shade of pink Arthur had ever seen. As if that wasn't bad enough, it was _paisley._

Arthur grimaced, and tried to hide his distaste. While he didn't consider himself well-dressed by any means, Eames' sartorial choices were offensive to his eyesight to say the least.

**Eames: I told you. Simply awful, isn't it?**

**Arthur: Well, I wouldn't say awful. Repulsive maybe. Hideous definitely. If you dress like that when you're not wearing you're uniform, I think we should stop talking right now.**

**Eames: You don't like paisley? I own lots of paisley shirts.**

**Arthur: I think my opinion of you has just dropped through the floor.**

**Eames: I'm hurt :( I'm also kidding, but it's nice to know where you draw the line ;)**

Arthur laughed, unable to help himself. Eames just understood him completely, knowing when he was kidding where others would take it as insulting.

**Eames: I think you should say something nice to me, since you've murdered my ego :P**

Arthur paused, searching the image in front of him for something to say. He decided against a compliment on his appearance; something like that was superficial and Arthur wanted to be sincere.

**Arthur: I don't think you're anywhere near as bad as you think you are. I think there's more good in you than you recognise. **

He could see Eames' jaw drop slightly, and the Brit's eyes flickered up to the cameras, as if he was meeting Arthur's gaze straight on. He noticed the change in Eames' expression straight away when he stifled his surprise and grinned.

**Eames: You're positively **_**darling**_**, Arthur.**

To his horror, Arthur could feel the blush spreading over his face. A quick glance at his screen informed him that it was visible over camera too. He didn't even need to look at Eames to know that he would be sporting an infuriatingly smug grin.

**Arthur: Shut up, Eames.**

**Eames: I don't think I will, darling. It suits you perfectly.**

**Arthur: -sigh-**

**Arthur: You can be so infuriating, Mr Eames.**

**Eames: So I've been told, darling.**

Realising Eames was going to persist in calling him darling, and secretly quite pleased with the endearment, Arthur stopped objecting. Normally, he hated being called anything but Arthur, only Mal could get away with calling him anything else, but now, it seemed he would make an exception for Eames.

**Eames: What are you wearing?**

**Arthur: My usual college/work attire. Shirt, tie, sweater vest and pants?**

**Eames: You wear a **_**tie**_** for college?**

**Arthur: Well, I didn't intend to initially, but it just sort of… happened. It's a long story.**

**Eames: We've got time. Do tell?**

Arthur grinned at his persistence, and recounted the story of his job interview and when he'd turned up in normal attire, everyone he'd met had asked him where his tie was. So he'd returned to his shirt and tie, feeling slightly more comfortable. Even before Nash, Arthur had never liked excessive attention. When he'd finished, he paused, watching Eames' face as he read the message. When he'd finished reading, he sat back and chuckled.

**Eames: I find life more interesting if you mix things up a bit. You should go in wearing jeans one day next week.**

**Arthur: I suppose it could be. I'll think about it. So when do you think you'll be going away again?**

**Eames: Not for a while. I can't take a job for a month, and when I can, there's a hell of a lot of planning to do before I can leave.**

**Arthur: Ahh, I see. Do you pick your own job or does someone pick them for you? I'm sorry if I'm crossing the line by asking questions. I'm just trying to show an interest, and I promise I'm staying away from questions that I think you can't answer.**

**Eames: I don't mind. If there's something I can't or won't answer, I'll let you know. Honestly, I'm pleased that you respect that I can't talk about parts of my work, and yet you're still interested in the parts I can talk about it. The few people I know… my flatmate for example, and I've known him for about a year, and he still avoids the subject.**

**Arthur: If you'd rather I didn't mention it, I won't. I really don't mind.**

**Eames: No, it's fine, darling. It's natural to be curious. But it's a mix of both, to answer your question. My employers usually pick, but occasionally I can choose my own job. As a matter of fact, I picked this last one.**

**Arthur: Cool. It sounds a lot more interesting than working at a library.**

**Eames: But a lot safer, which can only be a good thing. What about your freelancing job? What does that involve?**

Arthur grimaced. Much like Eames, he knew the work he did for Jacques was often illegal, and the means he used to find out the information was definitely on the wrong side of the law. Even if he knew Eames well enough to consider telling the Brit what he did, it was more than just him at stake. Jacques would also suffer. Arthur didn't want to lie, but he couldn't exactly tell the truth.

**Arthur: Research. I'm given a topic and then I put together a report on that topic.**

**Eames: Useful to your chosen career then. Ever do anything in my line of work?**

Arthur hesitated.

**Arthur: Occasionally.**

Eames seemed to recognise that the subject was taboo, like his own choice of employment, and changed the subject. Gratefully, Arthur accepted it and soon they were lost in another conversation. Eventually, Eames finished work and Arthur had to go to bed if he wanted to be up in time for college the next day, so they said their goodbyes.

**Eames: I'll be here tomorrow night, if you're not busy.**

**Arthur: Nah, I'll be here after work. There's only three weeks left of the college year and I've got to finish my architecture blueprints and Saito's assignment by next week, so I'm not going anywhere.**

**Eames: Then I'll catch you tomorrow night. Night darling x**

**Arthur: Goodnight Eames x**

He awoke early the next morning and went for his usual run, followed by his usual shower. When faced with his closet, Arthur hesitated as he reached for his usual shirt and pants combination; instead glancing over at a pair of jeans, clearly remembering Eames' words. He shrugged, and reached for the jeans, tugging them on, along with a tight black t-shirt. It had been a while since he'd worn jeans, and the feel of denim rubbing against his leg was odd to say the least.

When he left for class, Arthur felt uncomfortable, paranoid that everyone was staring at him. He took his usual seat and kept his head down. He was thankful when he got to his last class of the day: sociology with Saito. He greeted his friends, dropping into his usual seat. He opened his notebook in preparation for the lesson, and reached for his pen. Glancing up, he saw his friends staring.

"What?" He asked, exasperatedly.

"Didn't you have any clean shirts?" Dom asked.

"Plenty. I just felt like a change." Arthur shrugged. "Didn't realise I had to conform to sartorial demands."

Ariadne blinked at Arthur's words. She smiled and opened her mouth to say something reassuring, but Mal swooped in.

"No doubt the work of that _British boy _you talk to." She said with disdain. Arthur blinked at her in surprise. He had thought that Mal had moved past her dislike of Eames and that they'd decided to let things lie. Instead, she was refusing to even use his name.

Arthur glared at her. "If you're referring to _Eames_, you're sadly mistaken. He may have suggested I mix things up a little, but it was entirely my choice to do so. I thought we'd finished with this."

Mal had the decency to look contrite, and Arthur sent her a brief smile before Saito appeared and the expected silence descended on the room. Arthur sighed inwardly. Mal seemed set on making things difficult for him and Eames. He hated that things had suddenly become strained between himself and the French girl that had always been so lovely to him. It seemed like he was going to have to sit down with Mal and talk to her before things blew further out of proportion.

Saito dismissed them twenty minutes early, on the condition that they spent twenty minutes completing their assignment that night. Arthur only had one or two references to double check, and he was complete.

Heading out of the lecture hall, Arthur's phone buzzed. He pulled it out to see an e-mail from Eames. He smiled to himself and flicked it open.

**Darling,**

**I've been called in to work tonight, to discuss my recent trip. I'm afraid I shan't be online until quite late, and you'll most likely have gone to bed, unfortunately. I know it's your movie night tomorrow, and Yusuf mentioned it was his turn, and he's always looking for excuses to work, so if you ask him, he'll cover for you to come home immediately after the film so your friends don't take an issue with us talking. I know how Mal feels about me, and while I personally don't care, I don't want to make things awkward for you.**

**If, on the other hand, you'd rather spend tomorrow night with your friends, which I would completely understand, I'll be around on Friday night.**

**Until then, darling.**

**Eames x**

Arthur repressed his disappointment to read into the deeper meaning of the e-mail. Eames wouldn't have suggested that Arthur leave movie night early if he didn't want him to. Arthur felt that it was a suitable compromise, seeing his friends for the movie and then speaking to Eames afterwards. He intended to speak to the chemistry graduate about arranging it. It was a shame Eames had to work tonight. Arthur was worried. The Brit had said that his job had gone successfully, but he hadn't mentioned that a meeting to discuss the job was necessary. But there was little he could do from California, and he knew Eames could take care of himself.

**Eames,**

**I hope everything goes well with work. I'll discuss your idea with Yusuf this evening, I don't see why I shouldn't balance my time so I can see my friends, and then spend time online with you. Probably for the best if I didn't tell Mal that outright, though.**

**Take care of yourself. I don't like the idea that you put yourself in danger.**

**Can't wait until tomorrow.**

**Arthur x**

Arthur pocketed his phone, smiling and turned to join in the conversation his friends were having about Yusuf's choice of movie, which was V for Vendetta. Laughing at Ariadne's unimpressed face, Arthur missed the thoughtful glance Mal was sending in his direction, as she formulated her plan.

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**Okay, so next chapter will be the start of the summer break, and then soon after I'll take a big jump to the start of Arthur's third and final year of college, because there is too much ground to cover in between, but I'll explain all in the next few chapters.**

**Please, please review, your fluff and angst will be coming soon! -DD**


	9. What Can Make You Feel?

**I've had a few questions and hints about whether Arthur and Eames will ever meet, and I can confirm that they eventually will, but it's a way off yet. Thank you to everyone who reviewed on the last chapter, including XxrockyxX, Dasiygirl95, MarineLvr84 and Thaliag.2, as well as the two anonymous reviewers – your support is a fantastic motivation to keep writing.**

**This chapter contains the long overdue transition of feelings, at least on one side ;)**

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**Chapter Nine: What Can Make You Feel?**

The end of term came around quickly. Arthur submitted his assignments and sighed with relief at the fact that he had nothing left to do but enjoy the summer, interspersed with shifts at the library. The conversations with Eames had taken a step forwards, in that whenever they were on Skype, they always had a video call, although they never actually spoke aloud. On the first day of the holidays, Arthur calculated that he and Eames had met almost two months ago. Ever since Eames had returned from his trip, their conversations had become more regular, and they e-mailed each other during the day too, outside of their sleeping patterns. Over the summer, Arthur came to consider Eames one of his closest friends, and Eames felt that Arthur was one of his only friends, the other, of course, being Yusuf.

It was around about when Arthur started his final year of college that things began to change drastically. He'd worked a lot of hours over the summer, because Miles had let someone go at the library, and he'd had to fill in. Arthur couldn't prove it, but he suspected that Mal had been involved in the decision, in order to keep him away from Eames. He didn't mention anything to Mal, but he worked the hours dutifully. Unfortunately, the long hours he was keeping at the library meant that he was unable to see as much of his friends over the summer. The balance between them began to shift. While Arthur considered Dom to be his best friend, the truth was their friendship was starting to display cracks. Arthur could see that Mal was manipulating Miles and was interfering in his business, and while he didn't appreciate it, he could do nothing about it without hurting Dom. Arthur knew Dom was loyal, and would believe him, but Arthur also knew which of them Dom couldn't live without, and if Mal forced him to choose, Arthur knew he wouldn't win.

It was this knowledge that subconsciously pushed him closer to Ariadne and Yusuf. Over the summer, he saw Dom only on movie nights; Ariadne and Yusuf always made time for him and he found himself really enjoying the chemist's company. He found that they had a lot more in common than he'd thought and Arthur felt guilty that he had never taken the time to spend time with Yusuf and get to know him properly. While Arthur had always known Yusuf was intelligent, he hadn't realised that the chemist retained knowledge from a variety of subjects, and that he was very well-read.

Similarly, Ariadne had been one of Arthur's closest friends since high school, and the loyalty and affection he felt towards her was strengthened by the time they spent over the summer. What Arthur liked the most about Yusuf and Ariadne was that they never made him feel like a third wheel; they were incredibly private with their relationship, seeming more like they were best friends than lovers. Arthur envied their relationship more than anything; Dom and Mal's relationship was very intense and they could easily destroy each other. If Arthur had to pick which of the relationships would last the longest, he'd put his money and Yusuf and Ari every time. The fact that they were so in tune with each other that they were like best friends meant that Arthur could be incredibly at ease with them, and the more time he spent with them, the more he felt his confidence grow.

No, Mal's interference did manage to keep Arthur extremely busy over the summer, and while it kept him away from Mal and Dom, it didn't interfere with the time he spent talking to Eames. The only direct result of Mal's potential meddling was that Arthur's feelings towards Eames began to change.

He wasn't sure when it happened, but he could pinpoint the exact time he realised. It was based on a conversation Arthur and Eames had, two months after term started.

**Eames: Are you at work again tomorrow, darling? Your boss should give you a break now you're back at college; you almost bust a gut working for him over the summer.**

Arthur could read the concern in his friend's expression as their gazes met over the laptop screen. He smiled, affectionately.

**Arthur: Yeah, just a short shift, although it's probably going to be busy. I feel bad that I can't do more, but I just can't talk to people. The thought of anyone asking me for something, I feel sick.**

**Eames: What happened to you, darling? **

**Arthur: You know I can't talk about this, Eames.**

**Eames: I know, darling, I wasn't looking for an answer. I just don't like the idea that something was responsible for changing you. You should be confident, bold and do what's right for you. Darling, you're far too fantastic to let anything hold you back.**

**Arthur: You don't need to flatter me, Eames, we're already friends.**

**Eames: Maybe I do it because I want to, darling ;)**

Nothing more was said on the subject, but Arthur was touched that Eames thought so highly of him. The next night, at work, it was as busy as Arthur predicted. Miles was struggling to issue books and process returns at the same time. Arthur couldn't work the desk, because he couldn't directly interact with people, so when he wasn't reshelving, he stayed in the staff area. He cast an apologetic look in Miles' direction, and turned to head to check the overdue book list. He only took two steps before Eames' words from the night before came into his head.

"_Darling, you're far too fantastic to let anything hold you back."_

Arthur stopped dead. Eames had a point. Maybe not that he was fantastic, but that he shouldn't let anything hold him back. If he was going to have any sort of future, he needed to shrug off the restraints that Nash's betrayal had placed upon him. He spun on his heel and headed back towards the front desk, sliding into the empty chair.

"Next, please." He called, briskly. Miles turned to stare at him. Arthur shot him a shy grin, and turned back to his customer, a redheaded female. "How can I help?"

"Can I check this out please?" She handed Arthur the book she wanted. "I was wondering if you had the next in the series?"

Arthur was familiar with the series. He tapped a few keys on the computer. "It's out on loan at the moment, but it's due back tomorrow. Would you like me to reserve it for you?" He asked politely.

"Oh, would you? Thank you so much!" She gushed. Arthur took her library card and scanned it, checking out her book and reserving the next one.

The redhead smiled, shyly. "Thanks for all your help. Have a good evening."

Between the two of them, Arthur and Miles worked through the queue quickly, until the library was quiet once again. Stephen seemed astounded that Arthur had managed to work the front desk, when he couldn't interact with people at all usually.

"It wasn't as hard as I thought it would be." Arthur confessed. "But I think it's because I had a job to do. If I was left to make conversation, it would be so much harder."

"What changed?" Miles asked. "Is it that internet friend of yours?"

"He's part of it." He admitted. "He gave me a push in the right direction, but the choice was mine. But I don't want this to get back to Mal. She… doesn't approve of Eames."

"Ahh, so he does have a name." Stephen smiled kindly. He made a zipping motion with his hand across his lips. "You're secret is safe with me, Arthur. He's clearly good for you."

"Thanks. I wish Mal thought so. She just seems so set on disliking him." Arthur grimaced.

Miles grinned, affectionately. "Stubborn as a mule. Always has been, just like her mother. Arthur, I don't mean to pry, but is this Eames _just_ a friend?"

Arthur opened his mouth to deny that there was anything between himself and Eames, and paused. His mouth closed, slowly, realisation beginning to dawn. Aware he was giving away too much, he shook his head, but Stephen saw the fleeting expression of longing on his face.

"Good night, Arthur." Miles chuckled, waving for Arthur to go. Arthur murmured a reply automatically, and was halfway across campus before he realised he'd even left the library. Miles had been wrong in his assumptions; Arthur and Eames _were_ just friends, but there had been moments between them on Skype, where Arthur would _swear_ that the Brit was flirting with him. But that wasn't the issue. Things had begun to change; longer goodbyes, more kisses when they were leaving, lingering glances over the webcam. Arthur had briefly noticed the changes, but didn't recognise them for what they were until now.

Somewhere over the summer, Arthur had begun to fall for Eames.

The revelation was stunning. Arthur sat down on a nearby bench, in a daze. It was dark, and biting cold, but Arthur barely noticed. He was thunderstruck, unable to believe that he had feelings for Eames. One thing was certain; that they had to be buried as deep as possible. There was no way he could ever tell Eames; for one thing, they'd never even met in person. Was it even possible to fall for someone you'd never laid eyes on? Another issue was that nothing could ever come of it. There was no guarantee that Eames returned his feelings, and even if he did, there was the five thousand miles between them, the fact that Arthur had no idea if he could cope in a relationship with his past betrayal… the list was endless for reasons why Arthur had to hide his feelings.

He felt lightheaded, and wasn't sure he was up to talking to Eames, at least that night. It was better if he had some space from the Brit, so he could clear his head. He exhaled a shuddering breath, and realised how cold he was in just his jacket. Rising, he realised he didn't know where to go. If he went back to his room, he would be tempted to sign in to Skype, but it was already after midnight. There wasn't really anywhere open now. He briefly contemplated calling one of his friends; Yusuf in particular was likely to be awake. He reconsidered, knowing that the chemist was a on a tough deadline for some sort of secret solution. He sighed, and took a left turn, heading for an all-night coffee shop just off campus, not too far from where Yusuf lived. Ordering a medium Americano, Arthur took a seat by the window, staring at the blackness outside, but not really seeing it. He was lost in his thoughts, wondering exactly when his feelings towards Eames had changed. Bitterly, he supposed that nothing was ever just simple. Cradling his drink, Arthur wasn't sure how long he'd been sitting there, before a familiar voice disturbed his thoughts.

"_Arthur_?"

Arthur glanced up, in surprise. "Yusuf? What are you doing here?" He gestured for his friend to sit with him. Yusuf sat down, clutching a large white mocha.

"What am _I _doing here? What are you doing here?"

Arthur raised an eyebrow and Yusuf's deflection.

Yusuf relented and held up his drink. "I hit a dead end with the sodium hydroxide. The base is too unstable, but I can't find anything else that works. And my deadline is next week. I needed a break, and I was out of coffee."

Arthur nodded sympathetically. Yusuf shrugged and waited for Arthur's story.

"I just had an odd shift. Miles was struggling, so I agreed to work on the front desk." Arthur didn't lie, choosing instead to omit the part that was troubling him. Yusuf blinked in surprise, taking a sip of his mocha. Arthur cradled his cup in his hands for warmth.

"Was it really hard to interact with the customers?" Yusuf asked, sympathetically. Arthur shook his head, slightly.

"Not as hard as I thought it would be. Yusuf, do you think I've just been stubborn all this time, and I could have tried a little harder to associate with people?"

Yusuf shook his head. "Absolutely not. You'd do anything for Ariadne, right?" When Arthur assented, he continued. "Then you'd have tried your hardest to accept me that first night, which I _know_ you did. It didn't take a genius to see that you were uncomfortable, although I must admit; I was surprised when you bolted. As soon as you explained, I knew you were telling the truth, Arthur. If you managed it okay tonight, then it was because you've had time to heal."

Arthur nodded, touched by the chemist's support. He'd felt the same himself, but there was a moment of doubt when he worried he could have tried sooner.

They chatted a little more, before Arthur's phone buzzed. He glanced at it, spotting the e-mail. He opened it and scanned it quickly.

**Darling,**

**I was hoping to catch you tonight; I have to fly out to North Korea this afternoon, and I don't know how long I'll be gone. Unfortunately, I'll be unable to read any e-mails you send after the next hour, at least until I get back. North Korea has a ban on mobile phones, and I don't know if I'll be able to access my e-mail anywhere else.**

**I hope everything is okay; I waited up for you as long as I could, but I'll assume you were just too tired after work to come on Skype :)**

**I'll miss you incredibly, darling.**

**Eames xxx**

Arthur read the message with dismay. He'd missed the last opportunity he had to talk to Eames for an unspecified amount of time. And the Brit had waited up for Arthur, and Arthur had been too busy stewing over his unwarranted feelings for him. Arthur apologised to Yusuf, and tapped out a response to Eames.

**Eames,**

**I'm so sorry I missed you. I took your advice at work today, and checked out a few customers. It was easier than I thought it would be. I'm just a little out of sorts, and wasn't up to coming online. I should have let you know. **

**It's a shame that I can't e-mail you this time. I'll miss our conversations a lot. And you, of course.**

**Stay safe.**

**Arthur xxx**

He sent the e-mail and turned back to Yusuf, who was pulling on his coat. Arthur stared as the chemist began to stand, making his excuses. He forced a smile and nodded as Yusuf turned to leave, but feeling like he was going to explode.

"Yusuf!" Arthur said desperately. The chemist turned back and, spotting Arthur's wild expression, sat back down. Arthur struggled to work out where to begin, but Yusuf was perceptive and understood.

"Eames, right?" He smiled, sympathetically. Arthur nodded.

"He's travelling again." Arthur said. Yusuf bit his lip, thoughtfully. He knew all about Eames' job, being his only confidante. Eames had never directly asked him to keep his work secret from Arthur, but he had never needed to. Yusuf knew that it was none of his business and wasn't his secret to tell. But now, it was clear that Arthur was losing sleep over it. He needed to know.

"Alright." He conceded, guiltily. "What do you want to know?"

"Nothing like that." Arthur shook his head, knowing what Yusuf was thinking. "I don't want to invade his privacy and I would never ask you to betray his trust. The fact that he hasn't told me is enough for me to know that it's bad … it's just, I need to know … does anyone get hurt because of what he does?"

Yusuf was taken aback. This was as far from what he was expecting as it was possible to be. He also felt sad, because he knew he couldn't reassure Arthur. Cobol was ruthless with the methods they employed; and Eames had to undertake _any_ necessary measures to complete the job. But even without that, Eames was responsible for digging out anyone who was responsible for obstructing Cobol operations. And they _did_ get hurt.

"Yes." Yusuf admitted. "But Eames isn't directly involved with that part. He prefers to avoid that method wherever possible."

A spark of hope appeared in Arthur's eyes, but the desperation in his expression was still evident. He took a sip of his coffee to try and stop his hands shaking. "I have to believe he's a good person, Yusuf." Arthur whispered hoarsely.

"Why?" Yusuf asked, although he was already beginning to suspect the answer.

"I have feelings for him." Arthur whispered, wincing as though even uttering the words had hurt him. "I'm falling in love with him, and even if nothing can come of it, I can't fall in love with another Nash."

Yusuf swallowed, and opened his mouth to speak, but Arthur cut him off.

"No, I know exactly how it sounds; I've never met him in person, I don't know what he's really like. He's five thousand miles away from me at the best of times, his job is something illegal and potentially dangerous and I have absolutely no guarantee that he even slightly returns my feelings, and to top it all off, I don't even know what my feelings towards him _are_! If I tell him, then it could change everything, but if I don't, I don't know how long I'll be able to keep it hidden." Arthur ranted. Yusuf leaned over and covered Arthur's mouth with his gloved hand.

"Breathe, Arthur, or so help me, I'll find a sedative." Yusuf warned. Arthur relaxed, but stared morosely into his coffee, as if it held all the answers that he couldn't find. When Yusuf was satisfied that Arthur wouldn't interrupt him, he spoke.

"Do you want things to change?" Yusuf asked, firmly. "No excuses, just a simple yes or no will do."

"Not really, no." Arthur shook his head.

"Good. Then they don't have to." Arthur stared at Yusuf as if he'd grown a third head. "No, it really is as simple as that. You don't have to tell him how you feel, because you'd rather keep his friendship."

Arthur nodded, slowly. "Do you think I'm crazy?"

Yusuf considered him. "For falling for someone you've never met? No." He smiled, sadly. "Do you know why I applied for the exchange year in the first place?"

Arthur shook his head. It was long before he'd known Yusuf and, although he'd heard a lot of stories about his time in England, he'd never known the reason he'd applied.

"I met this British girl online. Sophie. For nearly two years, we talked. I fell in love with her after a while." Yusuf said, wistfully. "Neither of us could afford to visit each other, and I was desperate to meet her. When I heard about the exchange program, it was an opportunity I couldn't miss."

Arthur was amazed. "What happened?" He asked, curiously.

Yusuf smiled to himself. "I met her, and she was everything I wanted her to be. We were together for the whole time I was in England. She broke up with me the day before I came back to LA. Said it wasn't fair on either of us, because we didn't know when we'd next see each other." He met Arthur's gaze. "When I got back, I met Ari, and it was everything with her, that it wasn't with Sophie. What I had with Sophie… it was like Dom and Mal. Powerful, intense, but hanging by a thread. What I have with Ariadne is everything I've ever wanted. She's my life, my best friend… I was devastated when I returned to LA, but I will forever be grateful to Sophie, because it brought me to my true other half."

Arthur had never heard Yusuf talk so personally, so open about his relationship with Ariadne. He had always known they were perfect for each other, but if he had ever doubted it, that notion was dispelled by the sheer love in Yusuf's eyes when he talked about her. He felt a rush of affection towards the man opposite him.

Yusuf looked at him seriously. "So, no, I don't think you're crazy. I know exactly how you feel, Arthur, and I can empathise entirely. But I also know Eames, and while I think he'd want to know, I can respect that in this situation, keeping it to yourself is probably the best solution."

"Thank you." Arthur said gratefully. "I was a mess before you got here."

"Don't sweat it; it's what I'm here for. But I really need to be getting back now. I'll see you on Thursday." Yusuf grinned. "It's my turn, so be prepared for a treat."

Arthur grinned back. "We should do this more often." He said, seriously. "Not listen to me moan, I mean, meet here for a break. I know you get too stressed when you've got a tough deadline, and I could use a break sometimes. No personal issues allowed when we step through the door."

"Deal." Yusuf promised. "Goodnight, Arthur."

"Night." Arthur called, and took a sip of his coffee. He grimaced and threw the cold drink away, heading back to his room. He glanced at his watch as he walked across the campus and winced. It was almost five am. He would be lucky to get a few hours sleep before he had to get up for class. Arthur let himself into his dorm, and undressed, climbing under the covers. Within a few minutes, he was asleep.

* * *

On a completely different continent, Eames was wide awake. His flight to North Korea had been delayed, and he was sitting in Heathrow airport, feeling thoroughly. He felt sticky, tired, he'd been waiting for more than three hours and, on top of all of that, he was missing his usual nightly banter with Arthur. Eventually, his flight was called, and he stood to head to departures. He passed through security, and eventually boarded the plane. When he'd first gone to check in, he'd been told he couldn't take his phone with him.

"I'm sorry, sir, mobile telephones are prohibited on this flight, due to North Korean laws. You can't take it with you. There's a bank around the corner which offers safety deposit boxes for hire."

Eames nodded, tiredly. He would tap dance on hot coals if it meant he could just get to his destination without any further hitches. He followed the flight attendant's directions to the bank. Paying the initial deposit, an assistant led him to an appropriate box. Eames placed his phone inside obediently. The assistant closed the door, and directed Eames to a small screen, in which he had to type in a password. When he returned, he had to type in the password, pay the fee and he could retrieve his belongings. Eames appreciated the design. He approached the screen and paused, deliberating the password. A small smile had lingered on his lips as he typed in the twelve-character key that he'd chosen.

_ P-E-N-R-O-S-E-S-T-E-P-S_

Sitting on the flight, Eames wondered why he'd chosen Arthur's username as his password. The answer came to him readily, but he forced himself not to finish the thought. He'd been playing with fire from the moment he chose to reply to Arthur's message. And now he was close to getting burnt and it was no one's fault but his own. He couldn't deny that his feelings for Arthur were changing, but he didn't recognise the change and couldn't put a name to it. He closed his eyes, repressing a groan. Arthur deserved a better friend than Eames, a British criminal with no prospects. Eames didn't know what Arthur saw in him, but he knew that Arthur challenged him and didn't judge him; he made Eames feel like a decent human being.

He'd made his own choice to allow the American into his life, but he hadn't banked on Arthur becoming such a big part of it. But the damage was done, and Eames didn't think he could give up the one person who saw that there was more to him than what he appeared. He felt like his life had become like the Penrose Steps, always twisting back to the same place. Ever since that first Twitter message, everything came back to Arthur.

* * *

**Okay, so I wanted this chapter to just be all about Arthur's feelings for Eames, but I really wanted to include the safety deposit box password, so I had to add Eames' little section at the end. I'm not sure if North Korea actually do ban cell/mobile phones, or if it's just international calls, but I needed an excuse to work in the password.**

**Hope this wasn't too big a jump for everyone, but I felt I'd let their friendship develop enough, and was ready for the next step.**

**Please keep reviewing, I always appreciate feedback. Much love to you all! -DD**


	10. I Feel It's Time

**Thank you for all your wonderful reviews on the last chapter. Sorry for the delay, I've been snowed under with my own university work recently, as well as eventually getting an invite to AO3. In terms of changes to La Vie En Rose, I've decided that I want to incorporate smut into later chapters. It's an important part of the progressing relationship between Eames and Arthur. Of course, FF will not allow it, so I'll be posting the censored version here, and the uncensored version on AO3. I'll post the link at the end of the relevant chapters upon completion. Enjoy chapter ten!**

* * *

**Chapter Ten: I Feel It's Time**

Arthur found it a struggle to get up the next morning for college. As it was, he had to postpone his morning jog until the afternoon. He briefly contemplated taking the day off sick, knowing he would receive the usual abuse from Mal about Eames, even though he'd been up talking to Yusuf. Recognising that his absence would draw more attention to him, Arthur trudged unwillingly to his class. He spotted the disapproval in Mal's gaze at the rings around his eyes, and cut her off before she could start her lecture, knowing she would jump to the conclusion that his fatigue was something to do with the Brit.

"I worked the front desk in the library last night." He said quietly. Mal's expression transformed to one of approval and Dom and Ariadne grinned at him supportively. "I was feeling a bit off afterwards, so I went to Campus Coffee and I was there till about 5am."

"On your own?" Dom frowned. "You should have called me, I'd have come and found you."

Arthur shook his head. "I was only alone for an hour or so. By complete coincidence, Yusuf hit a snag in his chemical base and came in for a coffee break, so he sat with me for a couple of hours."

Mal nodded. "Did Yusuf mention what movie he had chosen for tomorrow? I'll be a little late, I have an appointment with my doctor after class."

Dom and Arthur looked at her, concerned, but before they could ask, the students began filing in to the hall. Their conversation was placed on hold as the students made their way to their seats in time for Saito's lecture. Arthur took his usual seat, and his friends sat down next to him. Arthur focused on the front as Saito rose from his desk, unsmiling as he addressed the class.

"Last year's results were not to the standard I would expect from you all and I found myself severely disappointed when marking them. There were those of you, however, that did exceedingly well and should keep up the good work."

He proceeded to introduce them to the subject that they would be studying that year, and the differences between interaction in person, and interaction over social networking sites. Professor Saito continued to outline that they would expected to talk to someone within the class that they had never directly interacted with before, both in person, and on a social networking site, and see which they found easier. Arthur wondered if he could use research previously gathered, as his mind wandered to the first time he met Yusuf. He would ask Saito at the end. Anything so that he didn't have to interact with someone he didn't know. Regardless of what he'd accomplished at the library, he knew he wasn't fully over his social phobia.

When the lesson was finished, Arthur bolted down to Saito's desk to ask his question. The professor listened to him silently, giving Arthur a chance to explain about his inability to interact socially. When Arthur had finished, Saito surveyed him.

"I'm afraid not, Mr Levine. I cannot make exceptions for this assignment. But I am not heartless. I will allow you to choose your own partner. That extends to Mr Eames, if you desire it."

Arthur blinked and smiled. "Thank you sir, but I don't have any plans to meet Eames in person as of yet. I'm not sure that either of us wants to meet. We've never discussed it."

Saito's eyes gleamed. "The final assignment is a long way off, Mr Levine. I expect you will put as much effort in this year as you did last. I found your last essay very intriguing."

Arthur recognised the concealed compliment. That was very high praise indeed coming from Saito. He thanked his professor and headed back to his seat to gather his belongings. Ariadne held out his bag, having already packed away his notebook. Arthur thanked her, and together with Mal and Dom, they headed outside into the parking lot.

"I heard Saito mention your assignment." She said conversationally. "What exactly did you get on the final grade, Arthur? He basically implied that you impressed him.

Arthur preferred not to discuss his grades, but he was ridiculously pleased with the mark he received for the Sociology second year assignment, so he didn't mind telling his friends.

"Ninety five." He admitted, repressing a grin when his friends gawped.

"Ninety five?" Dom gasped. "I've never known anyone to get _eighty_!"

Arthur smiled, modestly. "I worked really hard on it. I don't spend my nights glued to my laptop for nothing." He laughed.t

Ariadne looked at him slyly. "No, you talk to Eames. Looks like he's good for you after all, helping you get a grade like that."

Arthur laughed, shooting a quick glance at Mal, who had pursed her lips, unamused at the direction the conversation had taken.

"How is Eames?" Dom asked, oblivious to Mal's distaste. "You don't talk about him much, do you still talk?"

"Yeah." Arthur nodded. "Every weekday. Not usually on weekends because I work for Jacques."

"So, tell us about him. What does he do?" Dom asked. Arthur glanced at him, appraisingly, concluding that Dom wasn't digging, he was genuinely showing an interest.

"I don't know." He admitted. "It's a touchy subject. I think it's better I don't know what he does. All I know is that it involves extensive travelling, and it's illegal."

As soon as the words left his mouth, Arthur realised he had made a big mistake. Dom and Mal fell silent, and Ariadne looked away. He stared at them coldly.

"You all seem determined to dislike him." He snapped. "I'm sorry, do you know the circumstances? Why he does whatever it is that he actually does? It might be his only option, he might be blackmailed into it. What gives you the right to judge?"

Dom had the decency to look abashed. Mal met his gaze coldly, her head held high. Ariadne still wouldn't look at him, staring at the floor.

"Is that the case?" Dom asked quietly. Arthur glared at him.

"No. But I fail to see how it's any of your concern? Disapprove all you like, Dom. It's my decision whom I interact with. You could at least _pretend_ to be happy for me for once." Arthur snapped, feeling his temper soar.

"You're so defensive over someone you've never even laid eyes on." Mal sneered, defending her boyfriend. "You're pushing out your _real_ friends for someone you've so obviously developed feelings for, and it's not even real."

Arthur's eyes darkened. "My _real_ friends would be happy that I've found someone I connect with so well. And what the fuck gives you the right to tell me who to care about? So what if I do have feelings for him? You think I don't know that nothing is ever going to come of it? You know fine well that Nash fucking destroyed me, and _you_," he directed at Dom. "Witnessed it first-hand. For the first time in years I find someone I can start to care for, and you all do whatever you can to prevent it. So tell me, Mal, which part of that makes you my _real friend_?"

"You will not listen to reason." Mal raised her voice, and for the first time Arthur could see how similar to her mother she was. Marie was also commanding, and could be terrifying. He stood his ground, unflinching as she continued. "You are so set on talking to this boy that you cannot see that we only have your best interests at heart!"

"If you had my best interests at heart, you would know that I'm happy, and that the only thing I want is for you to respect that my decisions are my own!" Arthur retorted. "There's no reasoning with you either, you're so fucking certain that you're right."

"And all of us are wrong, Arthur? Me? Dom? Ariadne? Yusuf will defend this Eames, they are friends, but even Eames himself cannot deny that he is no good for you, am I wrong?"

"And you all feel like this?" Arthur stared around. Dom opened his mouth, struggling to speak, but in the end, he sighed, and gave a half-hearted nod. Arthur felt betrayed, but not surprised, as he turned to Ariadne.

"Ari?" He whispered. Ariadne shook her head, suddenly glaring at Mal. Arthur felt a leap of hope that _someone_ was on his side.

"No. Mal doesn't speak for me. I was wary at first, Arthur, you know I was. But I learn from my mistakes. I trust your judgement and I trust Yusuf's. If you both vouch for him, then I'm cool with it." She shrugged.

"_Pathetic_." Mal hissed, and Ariadne flinched as if she'd been burned. Arthur couldn't believe his ears.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" He roared. Mal's eyes snapped to his, and Arthur thought he saw a hint of fear behind her gaze. "If you're so sure you're right, why does Ariadne's opinion matter to you so much? Why do you even care if I talk to Eames?"

"I don't." She snarled. "Fuck it, Arthur, do as you please. When he hurts you the same way Nash did, don't fucking expect me to be there to pick up the pieces, because you can rot in hell. Sometimes, I think I can totally understand why Nash wanted rid of you."

Arthur stood, feeling like Mal had just slapped him. He stared at her like he was seeing a whole new side of her. While Dom gaped at his girlfriend, unable to believe that she had uttered the words that cut Arthur to the quick, Ariadne reached her breaking point. Her hand flew out and with a resounding _crack_, she slapped Mal hard across the face.

"You _bitch_!" She gasped, rubbing her hand. "How could you stand there and say something like that when you saw what he did?"

"I… maybe I was out of line." Mal retracted, rubbing her flaming cheek, where Ariadne's finger marks were steadily becoming visible. Arthur looked at her, then turned and walked away, heading across campus to his architecture class. Ariadne chased after him.

"Not now, Ari. Please." He said, mechanically, holding up his hand. "I'll call you tonight after work, I promise."

She stopped, and Arthur carried on, in a daze. Mal's words had surprised him; he had never thought that she could be cruel enough to utter them, but they didn't hurt as much as they would have before he'd met Eames. What was tearing him to pieces was that Dom had done nothing. His oldest friend, his _best_ friend, had just stood and gaped. He had made no effort to go to Arthur's defence. In that moment, Arthur knew that Dom's loyalty to him had faded long ago, and that their friendship was more or less irreparable now. If they managed to stay friends, they would no longer have the bond that Arthur felt had made them as close as brothers.

The afternoon passed in a daze, Arthur acting mechanically, without thinking, his head lost in the events of that morning. When he finished college, Arthur had work at the library, so he made his way across campus to start his shift.

"Afternoon, Arthur." Stephen greeted him as usual.

"Hello." Arthur said, tonelessly, heading through to the staffroom to drop off his bag. Miles followed him in, frowning.

"Is everything alright, Arthur? You seem to have your head in the clouds. If you're not up to working, I can arrange for someone to cover your shift."

"No, I'm good." Arthur replied dully, heading over to the pile of new books to be processed. A few minutes later, Miles sighed.

"Sit down, Arthur. I want to talk to you."

His tone was edgy, and Arthur's suspicious nature registered the unease, and snapped him out of his daze. He sat down, obediently.

"I want to talk to you about Eames. Mal told me what happened today, and you need to understand she's just concerned about you, Arthur."

Arthur cut him off before he could continue. "Are you talking to me as a friend, or as an employer?"

Miles looked taken aback. "As a friend."

"Then as my friend, I'm asking you to leave this alone. It's nothing to do with work." He replied, sharply. Miles shook his head.

"I can't, Arthur. You're my best employee, and my friend, but Mal is my daughter, and she's asked me to help."

Arthur rose swiftly and furiously, and picked up his bag. Walking away from Miles, he only stopped when his employer called after him.

"Where are you going?"

Arthur turned back, and Miles recoiled at the fury rolling off Arthur in waves. The student was _livid_ that Mal had interfered again, even going so far as to recruit her father, Arthur's _boss_, to stop him talking to Eames.

"You're using the fact that I know you from outside of work to pull weight so that you can interfere in my personal life." Arthur growled. "I refuse to work for an employer who thinks they can meddle in my affairs because they're the father of a friend. Consider this my resignation. You'll forgive me if I can't work the required notice period."

He left the library, leaving behind a speechless Miles. Before he'd taken two steps out of the doors, his cell phone was in his hand, his hands shaking as he dialled the number.

"Arthur?" Dom asked. "Listen, I'm sorry…"

"Is Mal with you?" Arthur cut him off, not bothering to apologise, he was furious. Dom was silent, deliberating whether Arthur's mood was something he wanted to witness.

"She's in the shower." He said finally. "Want me to pass on a message?"

"Yes." Arthur snapped. "Tell her that her scheme to induce Stephen to talk sense into me failed, and I've handed in my notice at the library."

He hung up the phone, leaving Dom speechless as he stormed across campus towards his home. Just as he unlocked the door, his phone rang.

"Hey, Yusuf. What's up?" Arthur answered. He wasn't angry with Yusuf, and managed to keep his voice steady. He reached for a glass and ran the tap.

"What the fuck is going on, Arthur? Ari told me about your fight with Mal, and now Dom just rang and said you've handed in your notice. Are you okay?" Arthur felt his control slipping at Yusuf's concern.

"No." He admitted, and in that moment, he exploded, throwing the glass of water at the wall. It shattered, and water dripped down the wall, landing in a puddle amidst the broken glass. "No, I'm fucking not okay. Why the fuck did I bother with that shitty assignment? Eames has turned out to be more trouble than he's worth. I've lost my job and my oldest friend because Mal doesn't approve of Eames. I don't know what the fuck to do, Yusuf." Arthur choked. He sank to the floor, letting out choking sobs.

"Stay there. I'll be there in five." Yusuf ordered, and hung up. It only seemed like seconds to Arthur, before Yusuf was knocking on the door. He wiped his eyes, and got up to let him in.

"I'm sorry." He apologised profusely. "I'm fine now, honestly. I just needed to let everything out."

Yusuf stared at him, appraisingly. "No, you're not. What happened at the library?"

Arthur told him everything, about Mal's hurtful comment and Ariadne's resulting slap, to Miles' interference and his resignation. Yusuf didn't interrupt, just listened carefully to everything Arthur was saying. When he'd finished, Yusuf spoke up.

"So where's the problem?"

Arthur stared at him. Yusuf explained.

"You work for Jacques, so it's not like you're short of money. I can guess how much he pays you. Ask him for extra jobs if you're worried about it. As for Mal, I don't know what's wrong with her recently. As I see it, she'll come to her senses and apologise. If she doesn't, it's no great loss. After what she said? I'd set Ari on her if she came anywhere near you."

"And Dom?" Arthur whispered. "I've known him for as long as I can remember."

"If he's chosen her over you, then he's not as good a friend as you thought." Yusuf said firmly. "Look at Ari. She's known you for years and she knows you haven't done anything wrong."

Arthur nodded, feeling fractionally better. To distract him, Yusuf suggested they play a game of chess. Arthur's eyes lit up. He was good at chess, and rarely lost a game. Taking their seats, Yusuf opted for white, and moved his piece. Arthur stared at the board, calculatingly, before he took his turn. In only seven moves, Yusuf managed to call checkmate. Arthur stared in a mixture of amazement and disbelief.

"You have _got_ to teach me how to do that." Arthur marvelled.

Yusuf laughed. "Interestingly, Eames taught me."

Arthur smiled at the mention of the Brit. He had no doubt that Eames would be able to push away the remains of his misery, that Yusuf hadn't managed to cheer up. He glanced at the clock, and realised Eames would be online, waiting for him to finish his shift at the library. Yusuf saw the glance, and smiled to himself, making his excuses to leave, so Arthur could talk to Eames. He had explained everything to Ariadne, everything except Eames' job, and she, like Yusuf, agreed that Eames could only help Arthur. Neither of them could understand Mal's vendetta, or her sudden vicious streak. All they could do was help Arthur through the heavy heart that Mal's unkind acts was causing.

* * *

Eames sat patiently, at his computer, bored. His trip to North Korea had been wasted, as the vase he needed to 'acquire' had been shipped out to Istanbul. He'd returned home and was waiting for word from Cobol on what to do next. He wasn't expecting Arthur for a few more hours, but he had nothing better to do. He was quite glad when his phone rang. Yusuf would relieve the boredom.

"Yusuf, my good friend. How are things?" He grinned, cheerfully, his smile fading when he heard the reply.

"_I'm_ fine. _Arthur_, on the other hand, has been better. A lot better."

"What's happened?" Eames asked, sharply, his concern evident. "Is he hurt?"

"Not physically. He had a run in with a friend." Yusuf explained.

"Dom?" Eames guessed.

"Mal. She wasn't happy and said… well, I'm sure Arthur will tell you what she said. Suffice to say, it was enough to make Ari slap her. And on top of that, her dad is his boss, and when he interfered, Arthur quit on the spot."

"What sparked it all off?" Eames asked quietly, but he already knew the answer. Yusuf would only be telling him everything if the fight had been about him.

"It seems Arthur was talking about you, and Mal and Dom didn't like that he didn't know what you did for a living. I assume they think that you could be dangerous. I, of course, know better, but I wasn't there to explain. Arthur didn't like that they were condemning you without hearing your side, and it all kicked off from there." Yusuf kept his tone light, but Eames could hear the underlying anger, aimed at Mal.

"Where's Arthur now?" Eames asked. He would do everything he could to ensure Arthur was okay.

"At home. He had a bit of a meltdown on the phone, so I came straight over. We talked it out, and I beat him at chess. He's impressed with your technique, by the way." He paused. "Listen, Eames. He was a state. Do what you can."

Eames promised, and Yusuf hung up. He turned back to his laptop, just in time to see Arthur sign into Skype. He requested a video call and was hurt when Arthur declined it, but from the American's next words, it was clear that Arthur had been crying, and didn't want Eames to see it.

**Arthur: I'm not really at my best, right now.**

**Eames: Darling, you always look at your best. I would swear you roll out of bed with your hair and attire immaculate ;)**

**Arthur: Haha, thanks Eames. You always know how to make me smile.**

**Eames: Darling, I was thinking, we've been talking for a while now. I want to tell you something.**

He knew the only thing that he could do to make things easier for Arthur, would be to tell him what he did for Cobol. He hadn't wanted to do it so soon; it wasn't that he didn't trust Arthur. He would trust him with his life now. It was that it wasn't safe for Arthur to know, and, partly, he felt that the knowledge would make Arthur see him differently.

**Arthur: Of course, anything you want to tell me, I'm always open to listen.**

Eames felt his heart swell, but it was half-hearted, marred by the certainty that Arthur would become distant once he found out about what Eames did.

**Eames: I work for this company called Cobol Engineering. At least, that's their official name. I'm a thief, but not a common one. I steal priceless antiques from impenetrable museums and mansions, and hand them over to Cobol to sell. Sometimes, if someone gets in the way, I deliver them to Cobol too.**

**Arthur: What do you mean by 'deliver them'?**

**Eames: Computer hacking, shadowing … it all leaves a trail. About six months ago, a man from Ireland found out about a vase Cobol was selling, and told the police. He remained anonymous, but it was my job to find out who he was. I gave them his name. He turned up dead within the hour.**

He sighed, dejected. There was no way that Arthur could look past this, see him for the person he was, not the person his job made him.

**Arthur: Have you ever hurt or killed anyone?**

**Eames: No, I tend to avoid it wherever possible, but I might one day. My own life is at stake. I have to do whatever it takes to complete a job. A fucked up theft means a price on my head. No loose ends. No quitting.**

**Arthur: They'd kill you if you tried to leave?**

**Eames: Yes. But I knew all of that when I agreed to the job.**

**Arthur: Thank you for telling me. I feel I can understand you a little better now.**

Eames was saddened by Arthur's words. That wasn't who he was at all. It was who he had to be for the job; with Arthur he could be himself, and he had hoped the American would understand that.

**Arthur: I mean, I can understand why you didn't want to tell me about it. You're ashamed, and you thought I would think badly of you. If it helps, I don't feel any differently towards you than I did at the start of the conversation.**

Eames read the message twice, hardly daring to believe his eyes. Arthur still wanted to know him, to talk to him after what he'd just found out?

**Eames: Thank you. That means a lot to me, darling.**

There was silence for a few minutes, then Arthur's reply came through.

**Arthur: You're my friend Eames. Possibly one of the only true ones I have right now.**

**Arthur: Ariadne just called. Dom wants us all to meet. I don't know what to do.**

**Eames: Go, darling. You know Yusuf and Ariadne are on your side, and that's unlikely to change. No matter what happens, it's not like you'll be any worse off.**

**Arthur: Alright. Thank you. I don't know if I'll be back tonight. Tomorrow?**

**Eames: Always, darling. I look forward to it.**

**Arthur: Take care, Eames xxx**

**Eames: I hope everything works out. Good luck, darling xxx**

_Penrose_Steps has signed off._

Eames sighed, and closed his laptop lid, burying his head in his hands. His concern for Arthur and the fact that Eames actually cared what the American thought of him was troubling. He didn't intend for things to ever get this far.

* * *

**So that's chapter ten. I felt like it was time that Eames trusted Arthur with all his secrets. Next it's time for Arthur to confess! Please, please review, all your support is what keeps me writing. -DD**


	11. There Are Dreams That Cannot Be

**This chapter is a little shorter than previous ones, because I wanted it to end where it does. I must apologise in advance, because this chapter isn't the fluffy love that you're expecting, but is miserable and full of angst. Try not to hate me too much.**

* * *

**Chapter Eleven: There Are Dreams That Cannot Be**

The next day was Arthur's day off. He'd been scheduled to work at the library, but since he'd quit, he had a day to himself. He'd had a fairly decent night's sleep after all the drama of the previous day, so he was feeling quite relaxed. Unfortunately, he had too much to do to spend the day procrastinating. He had to find another job; Jacques' assignments alone were not enough to keep him afloat, with rent, a phone bill, and general expenditure. He also had a lot of savings that he didn't want to touch, and preferred to keep adding to.

Arthur sighed. Finding another job was going to be difficult; he'd walked out on Miles, and that would reflect in his reference. Aside from the library, Arthur had no legitimate experience he could use to acquire another job. He couldn't work with people, due to his inability to interact with customers. The library had been ideal. For a brief moment, Arthur contemplated agreeing to go back to work there. Mal had asked him last night, after they'd managed to start repairing the damaged friendship, but he'd refused.

He wondered if he could ask Jacques for more assignments. It wouldn't cut into his time any more than the library had, and it would be on his own time constraints. It was also very well paid, particularly with the less than savoury methods he had to employ. He quickly fired off a text to his friend, asking him to call when he was free. Less than thirty seconds later, Arthur's phone rang.

"Arthur, my friend! I am never too busy to hear from you. What can I do for you?" Though the Frenchman did his best to conceal it, Arthur could hear the tiredness in his voice, and felt bad that he'd woken Jacques up.

"I'm sorry to have disturbed you; I should have known you'd be sleeping. I just wondered if I could maybe take some more work on?"

"But of course, mon ami. Are you no longer working at the library?" Jacques inquired, lightly.

Arthur sighed, knowing that he couldn't avoid the question. "No, I quit. Miles got involved with a quarrel I was having with Mal, and I lost my temper and walked out."

Jacques paused, thoughtfully. "Start from the beginning, my friend."

So Arthur did, telling Jacques about Mal's decided dislike of Eames, and the hurtful things she said. He left nothing out, even his own transgressions of losing his temper and leaving early from movie night to catch Eames online. Jacques listened patiently as Arthur told him everything, up until Dom had called him shortly after Yusuf had gone.

"Did you go?" Jacques asked, quietly.

"Yes." Arthur confessed. "How could I not? I've known Dom all my life, and Mal and I used to get on really well before I met Eames. I had to go, maybe they were right, and I just couldn't see it."

"But Ariadne and her boyfriend backed you up?" Jacques prompted. Arthur conceded that was true.

"I guess so, yes. I don't know, Jacques, I never cancelled plans I'd already made, and I never turned down spending time with them just to talk to Eames…but I owed it to Dom to go and hear him out. So I did."

Arthur fell silent, remembering the events of the previous night. Yusuf and Ariadne had called round to collect him, and together, they'd headed over to Campus Coffee to meet Dom and Mal, who were already there waiting for him. They frowned when they saw Ari and Yusuf.

"We meant for you to come alone." Dom said, softly. His shoulders were set stiffly, and Arthur recognised that Dom was as tense as he himself was.

Arthur frowned. "You didn't say so. Besides I think there are explanations and apologies all around, don't you agree?" He said stiffly. "There's nothing that you can say that can't be said in front of all of us."

"No," Dom admitted. "But considering how long you've been my best friend, Arthur, I thought we could sort this out ourselves."

"I'd rather have someone else to fight in my corner, in case this escalates." Arthur said coolly. "Why did you bother calling me, Dom? I think you made your position very clear earlier. Or has Mal thought up some more insults to hurl my way?"

The Frenchwoman flinched at Arthur's harsh tone and words. She deflated, knowing that he hadn't said anything that she didn't deserve.

"I had hoped you knew me better than that, Arthur." She spoke for the first time. "That I'm not like that."

Arthur met her gaze sadly. "I'd hoped so too. Apparently not. I'd never have dreamed you could have hurled Nash back in my face."

Mal bit her bottom lip, which was beginning to wobble. She recovered instantly, and Arthur couldn't help but admire her strength, forcing her emotions to one side in order to conceal any displays of weakness. "You must know, I have never thought that. The words I uttered … they weren't me. I can't even begin to describe how sorry I am, Arthur, and how deeply I regret that I hurt you."

Ariadne snorted from behind her, and Mal turned her miserable gaze to the other woman.

"I didn't expect you to believe me, Ariadne." She said softly. "But you also must know that I wholeheartedly repent the insult towards you this evening, and that your striking me was well deserved."

"I know it was." Ariadne said icily. "And I don't intend to apologise for it, either. I would do it all over again if I felt it was needed." The warning was clear. Mal met her gaze strongly, and inclined her chin, recognising that Ariadne was serious.

"My apologies, Ariadne." Mal murmured. Ariadne nodded, still angry, but accepting the apology nonetheless.

"Arthur, I must offer you my most sincere apologies. I won't blame you if you do not accept it, regardless of how much I mean it." Mal said softly. "But I must implore you to forgive me, nonetheless. I made a huge error, and I would hate to lose your friendship."

Arthur met her gaze, searchingly. "And Eames?" He asked quietly.

"Eames is as welcome as my friend as you are, mon cher." She said, and her eyes shone with sincerity. Arthur recognised the words as the truth, and relaxed, pulling Mal into his arms, and hugging her. He felt her tears drip onto his neck, but she composed herself before she withdrew from his embrace. Arthur smiled at her, and she beamed back at him.

Dom stepped forward, and Arthur's smile faded slightly as he turned to face his best friend. He waited for Dom to speak.

"I can't apologise, Arthur. I won't say something I don't mean." Dom said firmly. "I have never lied to you, and I won't start now. I don't like the sound of Eames, and I don't trust Eames. I can see the impact he's had on you, and the good he's done, and I can never begin to repay him for that, but I can't see this turning out any other way than a train wreck. But I haven't got involved, and I don't intend to. You know I don't like him, and you're going to carry on talking to him regardless, so there's nothing more to be said. So why don't we shake hands and carry on as before?"

Arthur surveyed him, and then took his hand firmly, grinning. "You make for a convincing argument. How many drafts did you go through?"

Dom returned the grin. "Did it sound rehearsed? I memorised it on the way over."

Everybody laughed, and Dom took the opportunity to clap Arthur on the back with one hand, wrapping the other around Mal. By unspoken consent, they all headed into Campus Coffee, taking advantage of their newly resolved friendship; it was the first time the equilibrium had been restored since Saito had issued that assignment last year.

Arthur blinked, and realised Jacques had spoken to him.

"Sorry, Jacques, what did you say? I had my head in the clouds."

Jacques chuckled. "It is fine, my friend. I simply asked whether you had sorted things out."

Arthur grinned. "Yeah, everything turned out fine, except that I don't have a job. Miles would hire me back if I asked, but I don't want to go back to the library. I enjoyed the reading, but it was a little repetitive. I want to try something different."

Jacques' smile was evident in his tone. "Of course, this I understand. I shall send you an assignment every three days. Is this sufficient?"

Arthur thanked him. One assignment a week would cover his bills, so the other would give him money to play with, as well as add to his substantial savings. After making general conversation, they said their goodbyes and hung up.

Arthur glanced at his clock. It would be another hour or two before Eames appeared online, so Arthur had time to head out and start his Christmas shopping. He'd had a few ideas for what to get everyone, and it was the end of November already. He took a bus to the shopping outlet around thirty minutes away from campus; spending the bus journey staring out of the window, lost in his thoughts.

Arriving, it only took Arthur an hour to choose and buy everything. He bought some new flasks and test tubes for Yusuf, whose cats were forever smashing his. A pair of heels that Mal had been eyeing for quite some time, but obviously couldn't afford went in the basket, as did two bandanas and Tim Burton's latest DVD's for Ariadne. For Dom, Arthur bought a jumper and the Avengers Assemble DVD. He and Dom had seen the film eleven times in the cinema, so Arthur knew he liked it. Before he headed out of the store, Arthur spotted a box set of The Matrix, his favourite film. He paused, thinking of the conversation with Eames, when the Brit admitted he hadn't seen it. Impulsively, he bought it, intending to discreetly ask the chemist to mail it to Eames for him.

Heading back home, purchases in tow, Arthur was equally as lost in his thoughts as he had been on the way to the outlet. He was thinking about Eames' confession; the way the Brit had trusted Arthur enough to divulge his biggest secret: that he was a thief.

It hadn't taken Arthur more than a few minute to pull up the news report of the theft of an antique vase from a museum in Florence, and cross reference the date with the time Eames had been away. What had taken him a little longer to acquire was the CCTV footage of the museum on the night of the robbery. He'd watched the theft scrutinisingly, begrudgingly recognising that Eames was _fantastic _at what he did. The man on the video tape was graceful, practiced, fast. He was on screen for a total of eight seconds. Arthur felt nothing but sheer admiration at Eames' skill.

He didn't intend to tell Eames that he'd seen the tape; the Brit had trusted him with the secret, and Arthur thought Eames might see it as a betrayal of trust. So he'd downloaded the footage to a DVD, and wiped it from his laptop, but unable to repress his wonder towards Eames' talent.

Arthur also felt touched that Eames had chosen to share his secret. It made him feel on top of the world that Eames considered them to be close enough that he could tell Arthur such things. The night before, as Arthur had been drifting off to sleep, he had made the decision that he would share a huge part of himself with Eames – the reason that he couldn't interact with anyone he didn't know face-to-face. He would tell Eames about Nash.

Only Arthur's circle of friends knew about what had transpired between Arthur and Lukas Nash. Arthur certainly didn't discuss it, and if Nash had told anyone, it hadn't gotten back to Dom or Ariadne, who had promised to make Nash suffer if he made his cheating public knowledge. It was the closest thing Arthur had to a biggest secret, and he wanted to share it with Eames, in the hopes that the thief would understand Arthur a little better, and understand how much Eames had helped him.

When he got home, Arthur switched on his laptop and put away his purchases, in the back of his wardrobe so his friends wouldn't accidentally come across them if they came over. He kept the box set on his desk, knowing that none of his friends would question it if they spotted a copy of The Matrix lying around. They would just assume Arthur had watched it again, for the millionth time.

A pop up in the corner of Arthur's screen drew his attention back to his laptop.

_Forgewithstyle has signed in._

Grinning, Arthur opened a window.

**Arthur: Good morning.**

**Eames: Well, hello there, darling. How'd things go last night?**

**Arthur: Great. Mal apologised, Dom did this whole fantastic speech about not apologising, but not interfering. The man should be in drama school, I've told him many times, he's wasted in college. **

**Eames: Haha, sounds like it would be interesting to hear. I'm glad everything worked out for you.**

**Arthur: Thanks. How was your day/night then?**

**Eames: Boring :( just lots of sleep. At least you're here to entertain me now though.**

**Arthur: As always.**

**Eames: In all seriousness, darling, I expected you to bolt.**

**Arthur: Because you 'steal pretty things'? I'm sure I've heard much worse.**

**Eames: LOL. I've never heard my occupation described quite like that before.**

**Arthur: In all seriousness, Eames, my opinion of you hasn't changed.**

**Eames: Glad to hear it.**

Arthur could read what Eames wasn't saying, and smiled.

**Arthur: Looking forward to work tonight?**

**Eames: With my uniform? You must be joking.**

Arthur laughed, loudly. Eames took every opportunity to complain about the pink paisley shirt which consisted of his security uniform.

**Arthur: Well, it is hideous.**

He paused.

**Arthur: Listen, Eames, I wanted to talk to you. I really appreciated you telling me about your job yesterday, and I want to share something with you. I want to tell you about why I struggle to socialise.**

**Eames: Happy to listen, darling, but you're under no obligation.**

**Arthur: I know. I guess that's why I want to tell you.**

**Eames: I'm listening.**

Arthur hesitated. He'd only ever told Yusuf about his failed relationship before, and even then, he'd told him the bare minimum. With Eames, he didn't know where to begin.

**Arthur: When I was in high school, I started dating a friend of a friend, called Nash. We clicked more or less straight away, and the next thing I know, I was head over heels in love. We made all sorts of plans together, and both applied to the same college. It was great, albeit we argued a lot. We arranged to meet after class, but when I turned up… well, I walked in on Nash being fucked by some Business student.**

**Arthur: I just felt so naïve. I honestly thought that everything was fine. I don't know what I did wrong, but I started to isolate myself. I thought everyone was laughing at me behind my back, for being such a fool. My friends… even Dom thought it was because I felt humiliated, but it wasn't that. It was that I just **_**couldn't**_** speak to anyone. I didn't even know myself how bad it had gotten until Ariadne and Yusuf started dating.**

He felt silent, waiting for Eames to reply. A response was slow in coming, but Arthur just assumed the Brit was busy. He felt a little hurt by Eames' lack of emotional response to Arthur's confession.

**Eames: Why, what happened then?**

**Arthur: We had our usual movie night, and Ari invited Yusuf. Every time he tried to speak to me, I mumbled and muttered and had to resist the urge to just run. Eventually, it became too much, and I just ran. I found out a few days later that Ariadne had broken things off with Yusuf, because she didn't want to make me uncomfortable. When Dom told me, I e-mailed Yusuf and apologised, explaining everything about Nash, and we e-mailed for a while. Eventually, I felt brave enough to risk seeing him in person, and invited him to the next movie night. It went fine. It's the only time I've felt able to talk to someone I didn't know in person, except at the library a few nights ago, and that was because of you.**

**Eames: I see.**

**Arthur: Eames? Is something wrong?**

**Eames: No.**

Arthur didn't understand why all of a sudden Eames was being so off with him. He bit his lip, feeling the rejection sting. He'd honestly struggled to get all his feelings out in the open, and Eames just didn't seem to care. He tried to change the subject, hoping Eames would be a little more forthcoming.

**Arthur: When do you think you'll have to go away next?**

**Eames: I don't know.**

**Arthur: Hopefully you'll get somewhere you can take your phone next time, so I can e-mail you again.**

**Eames: Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that.**

**Arthur: Oh?**

He smiled triumphantly, having got Eames to offer a contribution of his own to the conversation. He went to fetch himself a cup of coffee, while Eames typed his response. Arthur headed back with his drink. As soon as he got close enough to read the words on the screen, he froze with horror. The cup slipped from his hand and smashed on the floor, splashing hot coffee everywhere, but Arthur didn't notice it. He moved to his laptop in a daze, sitting down and re-reading Eames' last message.

**Eames: I think this distraction has gone on long enough, don't you?**

He frowned, sure he was misunderstanding.

**Arthur: I'm sorry?**

**Eames: It was just all a bit of fun at the end of the day. You in American, and me here in England. It was just a way to pass the time. It was just supposed to be while you were completing your assignment, wasn't it?**

**Arthur: Oh. Well, yes, but I thought things had changed.**

**Eames: Oh. I didn't realise. I'm sorry, Arthur, but I don't really have time for friends. I thought I'd made that clear from day one.**

**Arthur: You did, but I thought that was just for safety. I thought we were the same as you and Yusuf.**

**Eames: Partly safety, partly personal choice. The fact of the matter is, Arthur, that I don't really have time to be chatting online every night. I just didn't want to distract you during your assignment.**

Arthur's head was spinning with Eames' sudden display of cruelty. He didn't understand. Things had seemed fine yesterday; Eames had told him about his job! He quickly read through the conversation to see if he'd said anything that could have offended the Brit. He couldn't see anything. He began to smell a rat. Something had happened, that was making Eames push him away.

**Arthur: That's bullshit, Eames. We both know it. Why don't you tell me what's really the problem?**

**Eames: Let's just say I made a mistake by letting this carry on so long.**

Arthur felt the words like a slap in the face, the word mistake echoing around in his head. A lump rose in his throat, and he swallowed it, miserably.

**Arthur: Me too. My mistake for thinking we were actually friends. Thanks for your help with the assignment. I won't contact you again.**

**Eames: Much appreciated.**

Heartbroken, Arthur signed out of Skype. A tear slid down his cheek and he wiped it away bitterly. How could he be such an idiot? He should have learnt his lesson with Nash.

"Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me." He whispered, before sweeping everything off his desk in a violent motion. The box set he'd bought for Eames only hours before fell to the floor with a dull thud. Arthur staggered to the corner and sank to the floor, breaking down in tears. The man he'd somehow fallen in love with had just torn him in two, and Arthur didn't know how to bounce back from this. There was only so many times a heart could mend before it ceased to work at all.

* * *

**If it's any consolation, it broke my heart when I was writing it. I'm starting the next chapter as soon as I've uploaded this, because I absolutely cannot bear to leave it where it is. I promise all will become clear in the next chapter, which will follow Eames first, before swapping to Arthur. Please review! And lots of love and thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. -DD**


	12. Where Night Is Blind

**I felt so distraught at the end of the last chapter, I started to work on this tonight. Before I knew it, it was 4am and I was finished! So rather than make you wait, I decided to upload immediately. I promise this chapter is all fluff and love, once they've resolved their issues. Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed chapter eleven. Much love to you all.**

* * *

**Chapter Twelve: Where Night Is Blind**

Eames read Arthur's message with a sinking feeling. So Arthur was heterosexual… straight as a die. At first he wasn't sure what sort of name Nash was, but then remembered that singer who'd gotten famous who lived around the corner from Eames' mother. Kate Nash. From that moment, Eames just knew Nash was a woman, and he realised he'd never had any chance with Arthur to begin with.

Thinking about it, Arthur had never actually said he was gay. It was just something Eames had assumed, from the way the spoke, how easily they connected. While Arthur didn't flirt per se, there'd been moments when he'd seen a look in the American's eyes, even over webcam, where there had been something _more_. He hadn't actually realised that he'd grown feelings for Arthur until that moment, and it was devastating to have his feelings crushed before he'd even recognised what they were. His hopes were dashed and his pride had been dealt a crushing blow. So he reacted in the only way he knew how. By lashing out and distancing himself from everyone around him. Thus, he made the decision that he would do Arthur a favour and get out of his life, in case he did something stupid like confess his feelings.

It would be better in the long run, he told himself. As long as he still spoke to Arthur, his feelings would deepen, and it could only end in tears. Better there were tears now, than down the line when Eames would have to watch Arthur fall in love, possibly get married, if their friendship even lasted that long. He couldn't do it.

So he typed the words that meant he would lose the one person in his life who'd understood him better than anyone.

**Eames: Let's just say I made a mistake by letting this carry on so long.**

It wasn't a lie. He should never have gotten so close to Arthur. Eames still didn't fully understand the reason he'd actually replied to the message in the first place. Even after that, he'd recognised that his feelings towards Arthur had changed, but he wasn't sure how. He should never have let himself grow feelings for the American boy, who would never know he had broken Eames' heart.

**Arthur: Me too. My mistake for thinking we were actually friends. Thanks for your help with the assignment. I won't contact you again.**

Eames smiled, ironically. They _had _been friends. That was part of the problem. His heart clenched as he read Arthur's message. Eames recognised Arthur, in turn, was lashing out to save his pride, but it didn't take away the sting of the words. There was so much he wanted to say, to tell Arthur the truth, that he had feelings for him; that he'd thought that Arthur might one day return his feelings. Most of all, he wanted to say that he didn't mean it, he was sorry, that he did consider Arthur his friend and they could work past Eames' feelings. But he didn't. The words wouldn't come.

**Eames: Much appreciated.**

Arthur signed off, and Eames dropped his head into his hands, his shoulders shaking as he sobbed. After a few moments he composed himself, wiping away the remnants of his tears and smoothing out his expression. The only sign of his misery was the slight red tinge to his eyes. Moving back to his laptop, he hovered over the icon for Penrose_Steps on Skype, but couldn't bring himself to press delete. Instead, he closed the lid of his laptop, sliding it into his bag as he headed off to work.

As was his recent habit, as he relieved the day guard of duty, he moved to switch on his laptop to talk to Arthur. His hand reached for the power button before he realised what he was doing. Grumpily, he started his patrol, trying to keep his thoughts firmly away from Arthur. He'd allowed himself a brief moment of weakness, and now it was time to square his shoulders, clench his jaw, and move on. Exactly the same as he'd done the night he'd said goodbye to his mother, knowing he would never see her again. It needed to be done. Grief couldn't undo what had been done, the choices he had needed to make.

He'd just gotten back to his desk when his phone rang. He glanced down, sighing, to see Yusuf's name greeting him. He picked it up, resigned.

"Look Yusuf, I did what I had to do. I'm sorry that he didn't like it, but it needed to be done."

"What are you talking about?" Yusuf asked surprised. Eames closed his eyes, realising what he'd done, waiting for Yusuf to figure it out.

"Eames." He said quietly. "What did you do? _Ariadne? Call Arthur please. Now_." He called, away from the phone. "What have you done?"

Eames rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Look, Yusuf, you know what my job is. Arthur knew that this wasn't going to last forever. I'm far too busy to sustain a friendship, present company excluded of course."

"Tell me you didn't." Yusuf groaned into the phone. "One minute, Eames. _What_?" He listened for a few moments, and Eames could hear an angry female voice in the background.

"Ariadne wants to talk to you, and Eames, _please_, just do it. I'll only get the backlash if you don't. Please."

Eames sighed again, closing his eyes. "Fine, put her on."

He had known that Arthur's friends wouldn't like it, and that Yusuf would probably get the collateral damage, but he hadn't actually expected any of them to go so far as to scream at him. The sooner he got it out of the way, the better. He listened to the sound of Yusuf passing the phone to his girlfriend and asking her to go easy on him.

"Hello? Eames?"

"Speaking. I presume I have the pleasure of speaking to Ariadne?" He asked. Her tone didn't seem too aggressive.

"Yeah. Nice to finally speak to you. I've heard a lot about you, from Yusuf and Arthur." She said politely. Eames frowned. This didn't seem too much like a telling off.

"Likewise." He replied. "You wanted to speak to me?"

"I want to know what happened. Don't give me the same bullshit excuse that you gave Arthur. It won't wash. I want to know the truth." She demanded. "I've seen some of your messages, and you wouldn't just throw him over for nothing."

Eames sighed. "You're right of course. But it makes no difference, Ariadne, whether I tell you or not. Nothing will change. I did think it through before I made the decision."

Ariadne was quiet for a moment, and Eames waited patiently for her response.

"He said he told you about Nash." She said softly. Eames, confused by the sudden change of subject, couldn't help but wince at the name.

"Yeah, he did. I didn't give myself a chance to tell him how sorry I am that he had to go through that, and that he deserves so much better." He said, regret filling his tone.

Ariadne laughed, and it was harsh. "Did he tell you that I introduced them? That Nash and I were once like Dom and Arthur are?"

Eames' jaw dropped, and he admitted that Arthur hadn't told him that. Ariadne continued as if she hadn't heard him.

"I was distraught for months. Yusuf never questioned why I would break up with him just to make things easier for Arthur, but the rest of us knew why. I thought it was karma, for being indirectly responsible for breaking Arthur's heart, I had to lose Yusuf. Of course, Arthur being Arthur, knew what I'd done, and told Yusuf everything. In a way, you're letting Yusuf see exactly how I felt. Because now we've both introduced Arthur to the two men that have destroyed him."

Eames froze at her words. "I'm sorry, say that again?"

Ariadne sighed. "Forget it, Eames. Like you said, it makes no difference. I just wanted to speak to you, to see if I could find out what it was Arthur saw in you."

Eames cut her off. "No, it makes all the difference. Ariadne, tell me Nash's first name."

She paused, clearly surprised. "Lukas."

Eames froze in horror, unable to believe he'd made such a monumental mistake. Nash was a _man_. Arthur was gay. His mind raced with the disbelief of how he could have been so stupid.

"Ariadne, pet, be a dear and put Yusuf back on the line. I appear to have made a huge mistake." Eames said sharply. He didn't care if he was being rude. He had to fix things with Arthur before he was too late. Ariadne did as she was told, and Eames impatiently waited for his friend to speak. He could only hope that it wasn't too late to repair the damage he had done.

* * *

Arthur sat curled up in the corner of his room. He'd cried all his tears away, and was sitting amidst paperwork and coffee and what used to be his favourite mug. He had never felt so low in his life. He wasn't sure what he'd done to deserve being let down by everyone he loved, but whatever it was, he regretted it wholeheartedly.

He had been so sure that Eames was different; that their friendship was based on something that was mutual, and not just the Brit humouring him. He felt so naïve, so stupid.

His phone rang from somewhere under all of the strewed paper. It took Arthur a few seconds to register the sound amongst the numbness. Scrambling to find it, his hand knocked the DVD's he'd bought for Eames earlier. Swiping them to one side, Arthur's hand met his phone and he answered the call.

"Hello." He answered, hoarsely. He sounded terrible, and cleared his throat.

"Arthur? Are you okay? What happened?"

"Nothing that I shouldn't have expected." He answered honestly. "I don't know myself Ari. One minute, I was telling him about Nash, the next he was telling me that this was a mistake. I was a fool to think we were ever friends."

Ariadne was sympathetic. "Forget about Eames. I'll deal with it. Go have a shower or something, and calm down. I'll call you back."

They hung up, and Arthur began clearing up the mess he'd created. Luckily, the spilt coffee hadn't managed to ruin any of Arthur's architecture blueprints. He picked up as much as he could of the shattered cup and quickly vacuumed up any remaining shards. When he'd done, he went for a long shower. He came out feeling marginally better, dressed in a white shirt and grey trousers. His phone lit up from the desk where he'd placed it after Ariadne's call. Barefoot, he padded across to it, glancing at the display. It wasn't a number he recognised, and it had an unusual country code. Expecting it to be a sales call, Arthur ignored it. A few moments later, the phone rang again. This time he answered it.

"Hello?" He said, warily.

"Hello? Arthur?" He definitely didn't recognise the deep accented voice that reverberated down the line.

"Speaking. Can I ask who's calling?" He frowned.

The voice chuckled. "Can't you guess, darling?" Realisation struck, as Arthur managed to place the accent, and the endearment made his heart leap.

"Eames," he breathed in wonder, before the events of earlier registered in his mind. "I was under the impression that we had nothing to talk about." He said coolly.

"Darling, I made a mistake," Arthur flinched at the word. "But the mistake was everything I said earlier. I do consider us friends, Arthur, you're one of the only friends I have, and I would be a fool if I let you walk out of my life."

"I wasn't walking anywhere, Eames. You all but pushed me." He argued.

Eames sighed. "I know, darling. I fucked up royally. But I don't want to lose our friendship. It's the most important thing in my life right now."

Arthur softened, believing that the Brit was speaking the truth. He had already forgiven him. It was never a matter of whether Arthur would forgive Eames, it was a matter of _when_ he would forgive him.

"Will you tell me why?" He asked quietly. Eames fell silent, and Arthur knew the answer would be no.

"If you want me to, I will." Arthur blinked.

"But you don't want to." He guessed.

"No, I don't want to. It was trivial, and a complete misunderstanding on my part. But I understand that I can't expect you to just forgive me without knowing where my head was at in the first place."

"And you won't lie to me?" His eyes narrowed.

"I never have, darling." Arthur could pick up on the slight indignation. That was true. Everything Eames had said in the conversation earlier was true, Arthur had known that. But he had avoided the real reason he had wanted to end their friendship. And he was offering Arthur the knowledge of that reason.

"Then we'll forget this ever happened." Arthur said generously. "That you would tell me if I wanted to know is enough. Everyone's allowed one fuck up. Just … don't do it again. Or at least tell me the truth."

"Always, darling."

After making arrangements to log back in to Skype, Arthur hung up the call. He knew that the cost of an international call from Europe to the USA was exorbitant, and, while he was sure Eames could afford it, it was an unnecessary expense when they could talk on Skype for free. He started up a video call with the Brit, and for the first time, spoke while they could see each other.

"I like your accent." Arthur said shyly. "It's very upper class."

Eames roared with laughter, and Arthur thrilled to the sound.

"Darling, you're as far from right as it is possible to me. I'm from a rather common area of London. Your accent on the other hand, is divine. I could listen to you read the phone book."

Arthur laughed himself, feeling a grin work its way onto his face. Arthur spoke to Eames for the rest of the evening and most of the night, about anything and everything, their conversation only ending when the day guard turned up to take over Eames' shift.

"I'll e-mail you when I wake up." Eames promised. "Get some sleep, darling."

"I will. Goodnight, Eames." Arthur waved shyly, and ended the call. Turning off his laptop, he undressed and slipped into bed, knowing he would regret the late night when he had to get up for college the next morning. His phone buzzed next to his head, signalling a new text. He opened it, tiredly.

**02.13am Unknown Number**

**Goodnight darling xxx**

Arthur smiled and drifted off to sleep with a smile on his face.

* * *

From that point on, Arthur's phone bill increased exponentially. He and Eames pinged texts back and forward whenever they were awake, and sometimes when they weren't. Most mornings, Arthur woke up to find that Eames had sent him a message or two while he'd been asleep. While Arthur's friends noticed the increased use of his phone, they chose not to comment; Mal and Ariadne choosing to smile whenever Arthur's phone buzzed. For once, everything seemed to be going well. Mal began to show an interest in Eames, and listened to Arthur's stories with genuine interest. Even Dom listened, and began to relax his dislike of the Brit. Ariadne, to Arthurs' relief and eternal gratitude, had kept what had transpired to herself, so Dom and Mal were totally unaware that Arthur and Eames had ever had issues.

Eames had no idea that Arthur returned his feelings, and Arthur never even dreamed that Eames had feelings for him. They kept dancing around the subject of their growing attraction towards each other, marred by insecurity and distance. Both repressed their feelings for the other, accepting that it could never work. Their friendship thrived for it, the two spending hours video calling each other whenever their schedules allowed it.

Christmas soon came around. Arthur had asked Yusuf to mail Eames' presents, the box set and a watch he'd found while having his own repaired. Unknown to Arthur, Eames had also mailed Arthur's presents to Yusuf. To the chemist's amusement, both gave the instruction that the other was not to open the gifts until they were on Skype. On Christmas Eve, Eames had received his gift, to his delight, and Yusuf personally delivered Arthur's. He knocked on Arthur's door.

"Afternoon." He grinned. "Delivery for an Arthur Levine?" He walked in, handing Arthur two gift bags. Arthur glanced at them.

"Thanks Yusuf." He handed the chemist his own presents. Arthur opened his gifts, which was a very handsome leather wallet, and a matching bookmark. He thanked Yusuf warmly, grinning as Yusuf marvelled over the test tubes and flasks, which were of the highest quality.

"They're made of very thick glass, so if any of your cats knock them over, they shouldn't break." Arthur told him. Yusuf thanked him, excitedly, and proceeded to make his excuses to leave, desperate to try them out.

"Hey, wait! What's this bag?" Arthur called, holding up the other gift bag. Yusuf paused, grinning wickedly.

"Oh _that_. That's for you. From Eames. He said not to open it until you're both on Skype. I've got to dash; I know _just _what to put in this flask."

Arthur thought it was better not to ask, and waved the chemist to go. He examined the gift bag, attempting to read the illegible scrawl on the tag.

_My dearest Arthur,_

_Merry Christmas, darling._

_Eames xxx_

Arthur was desperate to know what the Brit had picked out for him, or if Eames had even received his own present. He opened Skype, and to his delight, found that Eames was online. He requested a video call, which Eames accepted immediately. The call loaded, and Arthur smiled affectionately at his friend.

"What's this?" He raised an eyebrow, holding the bag up in front of the webcam. Eames grinned, happily.

"_That_, darling would be a Christmas present. Now I know you're familiar with the concept, since I appear to have something on my bed which resembles such a thing, with your name on the tag." He said, cheekily.

Arthur laughed. "So you got it, I was beginning to worry that it wouldn't get there on time."

"Came this morning, darling. I must say, your handwriting is immaculate. It's almost like it had been typed."

"And yours looks like chicken scratch." Arthur grinned. "It was struggle to decipher whether you were wishing me a Merry Christmas, or telling me to marry Christine."

Eames threw back his head and laughed, exposing his throat. Arthur's mouth went dry as he stared at the stubble gracing the Brit's neck and jawline. He managed to get his desire under wraps as Eames smiled at the camera.

"So shall we open them now, or are you going to make me wait till tomorrow?" Eames asked.

Arthur smiled. "No, you can open them now. Go ahead, pick one."

Eames opened the bag excitedly, and picked out the box set. He ripped of the paper excitedly, grinning when he saw what it was.

"I'll watch one tonight, darling." He promised. "Your turn."

Arthur reached in to his own gift bag and pulled out a small squishy parcel. He unwrapped the gift, taking care not to rip the paper, much to Eames' amusement. He pulled out a silk black tie, and smiled. It was beautiful and Arthur intended to wear it the very next day. He told Eames so.

The Brit reached for his other present, and unwrapped it quickly. He flipped open the lid and his mouth fell open as he took in the beautiful silver watch that Arthur had picked out for him.

"Darling…" He began.

"I understand if you don't like it." Arthur said hurriedly. "I wasn't sure if you would, but I saw it and…"

"I love it." Eames cut him off firmly, and put it on his wrist. Arthur beamed happily.

Arthur reached for his last gift, a large, rectangular object. From the shape and weight, it was obviously a book. Carefully, he unwrapped it to find that he was staring at a smart leather bound copy of Gaston Leroux's The Phantom Of The Opera, black with red pages. He ran his fingers down the cover tenderly, bringing the tome to his nose as he smelt the particular, distinctive aroma that all new books carried.

"Thank you, Eames." He said genuinely. "It's beautiful."

They chatted a little more, about Arthur plans for Christmas day. His parents were coming to get him quite early that afternoon to take him home for Christmas. He wouldn't go back to campus until New Year's Eve, which the friends were intending to spend together at Yusuf's house.

"What are you doing for Christmas, Eames?" Arthur asked suddenly. "You can't spend it with your family, can you?"

Eames shook his head, regretfully. "Unfortunately not, darling. I haven't seen my mum or my brother in nearly three years. I'll probably give them a call sometimein the evening. I sent them a present. My flatmate doesn't have any family either; they all live in America. We'll probably just spend the day as we normally do."

Arthur recognised that the subject was uncomfortable for Eames, and changed the subject, but promised himself that he would call Eames tomorrow to wish him a merry Christmas. About an hour later, Arthur's parents arrived. Arthur said goodbye to Eames and packed away his laptop. He greeted them fondly, embracing them. His father carried his bag to the car, while Arthur told his parents all about the year. He only ever saw them for Christmas; they travelled continually for work, but always took the time off between Christmas and New Year so they could spend time with their son.

That night, Arthur curled up on the sofa with his new book. His parents glanced at it, admiringly.

"That's a beautiful book, Arthur. Where did you get it?" His mother asked. He blushed.

"It was a Christmas gift from a friend." He answered evasively. His parents exchanged a glance.

"A friend?" His mother prompted. Arthur sighed, affectionately, putting down the book.

"Yes, it was from Eames." He rolled his eyes. His parents had found out all about Eames over the summer. Arthur's mother had seemed pleased that Arthur had made a friend, while his dad had just seemed relieved that Arthur was eventually beginning to move on from 'that Nash boy'.

At Arthur's admission, his mother and father grinned to themselves, and not another word was said about Eames or the book. That night, Arthur excused himself to go to bed at eleven. He set an alarm for the next morning, and drifted off to sleep.

He awoke at four am when the alarm went off. Blearily, he rubbed his eyes and reached for his phone. He dialled Eames' number, and pressed the phone to his ear.

"Hello?"

"Merry Christmas, Eames." Arthur whispered.

"Darling! It must be the middle of the night where you are, why are you still awake?" Eames cried.

"Wasn't." Arthur mumbled. "I set an alarm so I could say Merry Christmas."

Eames chuckled. "Darling, it will still be Christmas in four hours from now, go back to bed and get some sleep."

"I know. I just wanted to say it before you spoke to your family, in case you were upset and wanted time to yourself." Arthur murmured, sleepily.

Eames was quiet for a moment. "I appreciate it, darling. You've no idea how much." He whispered. "Go on now, go back to sleep. I'll be leaving for Moscow tomorrow. I should be back before you leave your parents."

Arthur closed his eyes. "Make sure you're safe. I'd be lost without you, Eames."

"I know, Arthur. I don't know what I'd do without you. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas Eames." He whispered, before hanging up. A few moments later, he was asleep, dreaming of leatherbound books and watches and a stranger with stubble and an English accent.

* * *

**The next chapter will follow Eames initially, before swapping to Arthur, and will contain a nice surprise for you all. It's my early Christmas gift to you. I was thinking last night, for when Arthur and Eames eventually meet, do you think Arthur will find it difficult to talk to him, with his social phobia? Just a thought.**

**Please review. I appreciate them all so much. -DD**


	13. Stand Tall And Face It All

**Sorry about the delay with this chapter; I just wasn't happy with it, and I've rewrote parts of it two or three times. This chapter especially needed to be perfect (you'll see why), and I just couldn't get it that way. Hopefully, it still lived up to expectations. I'd like to dedicate this chapter to Sara, who also goes by XxrockyxX and solutionforreality, because of her unwavering support of my fics and her lovely reviews. Thank you :)**

* * *

**Chapter Thirteen: Stand Tall And Face It All**

"It was Ariadne's idea." Yusuf said defensively. "I think it's a good one."

Eames sighed, patiently. "It's not that I don't want to, Yusuf, you know I do. I just can't up and leave for Los Angeles. For a start, I have a job to finish. I don't know how the museum curator knew that someone was going to steal that vase, but because of it, I'm already on thin ice with Cobol. I'm going to Moscow tomorrow, and then I'd stake my entire cut of this job that I have to leave for somewhere else within the month. I wouldn't even _dare_ ask Cobol for time off."

Yusuf groaned. "Eames, seriously. It's been nearly two years since I last saw you. I'd like you to come to the New Year Party. And besides, don't you want to meet Arthur?"

Eames fell silent. "I don't know," he said eventually. "We've never discussed it. I don't just want to show up in LA and have him feel obligated to see me."

"That's not what I asked." Yusuf stated.

Eames sighed again, a regular occurrence when talking to Yusuf. "Yes." He admitted. "I'd like to see him, a lot. Hopefully rid myself of this…" He trailed off.

"Schoolboy crush?" Yusuf laughed. "Don't sound so surprised that I know, Eames. I've always been able to read you like a book, and Arthur is everything you go for. If you already have feelings for him, then there's another reason you should come. You never know where things might lead."

"I know _exactly _where things would lead." Eames argued. "Nowhere. Besides, you know Arthur has social issues. What if I turned up and he worked up a full-scale tongue tie? I'd stand there looking like a twat as he ran off. No, it's absolutely not a good idea. Not until I've talked it over with Arthur."

Yusuf sighed and relented, while Eames thanked him for the invitation. They chatted a little more about Christmas, before they said goodbye.

"Merry Christmas, mate." Eames said, and pocketed his phone. He headed to make himself a cup of tea, and stuck his head in the living room to ask his flatmate if he wanted one.

"No, thank you." Rob said distantly. He hadn't been himself all day. Eames assumed it was something to do with missing his family on Christmas and hadn't asked. It was none of his business. After he'd had his tea, Eames began to run through his plan for infiltrating the security of the museum in Moscow. After an hour or two, his phone rang, interrupting his planning. He frowned, reaching for it, his expression lighting up when he saw it was Arthur.

"Hello?"

"Merry Christmas, Eames." Arthur's voice whispered. He sounded sleepy. Eames glanced at his watch and held back a whistle.

"Darling!" He cried. "It must be the middle of the night where you are. Why are you still awake?"

"Wasn't," came the sleepy reply. "I set an alarm so I could say Merry Christmas."

Eames couldn't hold back the chuckle.

"Darling, it will still be Christmas in four hours from now, go back to bed and get some sleep." He ordered.

"I know. I just wanted to say it before you spoke to your family, in case you were upset and wanted time to yourself." Arthur explained.

Eames was touched by the gesture and had to take a moment to compose himself. Swallowing, he replied. "I appreciate it, darling. You've no idea how much. Go on now, back to sleep. I'll be leaving for Moscow tomorrow. I should be back before you leave your parents."

"Make sure you're safe." Arthur replied. "I'd be lost without you, Eames."

Eames closed his eyes, embarrassed by the tears in his eyes and the affection threatening to burst out of his chest. "I know, Arthur. I don't know what I'd do without you. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, Eames." Arthur hung up, leaving Eames standing in his kitchen, filled with warmth and affection for the American that had stolen his heart.

* * *

Eames dropped from the air vent and moved swiftly and quietly through the halls of the State Museum of Oriental Art. If his source was correct, the vase should be just around the next turn. Just before he rounded the corner, he heard a muffled cough. Quickly, he darted into a niche, melting into the shadows, holding his breath.

"Are you certain that Cobol will try and steal the vase?" A hoarse Russian-sounding voice asked. Eames' eyes widened. This was _not good_. If they knew about Cobol's operations, actually knew the name Cobol, that meant there was a mole, handing out information. He strained his ears to hear the reply.

"Most definitely. My source believes they have already sent their best man, that he is already in the city."

The first man laughed. "Then it is too bad for him that the vase never left North Korea."

Eames' fist clenched. "Shit." He whispered. Until he could prove to Cobol that there was a leak, he would be held responsible for the failure. As of now, there was a price on his head. He risked a peek around the corner to see if the vase was there, but he knew it wouldn't be. Eames backtracked quickly, pulling himself in to the air vent and replacing the metal grille. Noiselessly, he crawled through the labyrinth he'd memorised, and found his way to the roof. Avoiding the sensors for the alarms, he jumped to a nearby tree, and swung himself up to the wall. Checking for any security guards, Eames dropped down the other side, and ran into the darkness.

Less than an hour later, he was at the airport, to board the first flight he could out of Russia, to fix the godforsaken mess he'd somehow gotten mixed up in.

* * *

Arthur returned home from Yusuf's party, feeling quite giddy. There had been alcohol, although Arthur hadn't touched it. He didn't like being out of control, or not having command of his senses. He preferred to be the one who, if he could drive, would be the designated driver. His giddiness was slightly marred by the fact that he hadn't heard from Eames in a week. While Arthur knew it was probably because the job was taking longer than Eames had initially thought, he still couldn't help but worry that something had gone wrong. Knowing there was nothing he could do, he pushed his worry to the back of his mind, and went to sleep.

Two days later, the first thing he did was check his e-mails to see if anything from Eames had come through overnight, as became his regular routine. It hadn't. He checked his phone, but there was nothing there either. Shrugging it off, Arthur took his usual route around campus, before hopping in the shower. He pulled on his favourite grey shirt, and a dark pair of jeans. When he was dressed, he moved to switch on his laptop when his phone rang.

"Hey, Yusuf, what's up?" He greeted.

"Arthur? Are you free today? Do you want to come over and watch a film?" Yusuf asked, his usual grin evident in his voice.

Arthur was surprised. "Sure. When do you want me?"

"Come now if you like. I've just got to finish stabilising the caesium, but I should be done by the time you get here."

Arthur raised an eyebrow. Caesium was quite a dangerous element, and reacted explosively when it came into contact with air. He decided not to ask. Yusuf knew his trade well, Arthur was sure he was being careful. Promising to be there soon, Arthur grabbed his jacket and hung up. The short walk across campus was warm, and Arthur loosened a button on his collar. When he arrived at Yusuf's, the chemist called him in without answering the door. The laboratory, or what had been a dining room, was locked.

"Yusuf?" He called, frowning.

"In here." Yusuf called from behind the door. "I'll be a few minutes. Make yourself a cup of tea. Actually, I'll have one too if you don't mind."

Arthur rolled his eyes, grinning. He headed to the kitchen, and boiled the kettle, pulling down two mugs. He heard Yusuf unlock the lab door and come in behind him and reached for the teabags.

"How do you take your tea?" Arthur asked, without turning around.

"Two sugars and a splash of milk, darling."

Arthur dropped the teabags and spun round. Eames' hand snapped out and caught them before they hit the floor. He replaced them back on the bench and stepped back. Arthur gaped, unable to believe that Eames was standing right in front of him. He reached out a hand and brushed against the Brit's arm, in an attempt to convince himself he was dreaming.

Yusuf appeared in the doorway grinning. Arthur turned to him.

"How long?" He asked, hoarsely.

Yusuf understood what he meant. "It wasn't planned." He said honestly. "I asked him to come for New Year, but he couldn't. He showed up here last night. I didn't know anything about it."

Arthur nodded, and as the kettle had finished boiling he pulled down another cup. He added two sugars and milk to Eames' and just milk to his own.

"How do you take your tea, Yusuf?" Arthur asked, staring at the cups. The chemist replied that he only took milk, so Arthur handed him the cup. He picked up Eames' mug and offered it to the Brit, who took it carefully.

"Thank you, Arthur." He said in a low voice, which sent a shiver down Arthur's spine. He nodded, acknowledging Eames' words. An awkward silence descended upon them. It wasn't that Arthur was being rude. He'd been so taken aback by Eames' presence, that he wasn't sure if he would be able to speak, and he didn't want to turn into a stuttering fool in front of him.

"I'm sorry if I surprised you, Arthur." Eames said, his expression wary. "The last thing I wanted was to make you uncomfortable." He replaced his untouched tea on the table. "I can go if you'd prefer."

"No!" Arthur stammered. "No, don't go. I'm so sorry, I just don't know if I can do this without sounding like a stuttering idiot…" He trailed off, hands beginning to shake. Eames moved like lightning, cupping his hands around Arthur's and steadying the tea.

"Careful, darling. That's hot." He smiled. "Arthur, I knew that this would be difficult for you. You don't have to worry about sounding silly, I completely understand."

His reassurance seemed to do the trick, because Arthur's posture straightened and he stopped shaking, although Eames didn't let go of his hands.

"God, Eames, it's really you." He breathed. "It's good to see you."

Eames' face lit up. "You too, darling. I must admit, you recovered faster than I thought you would. I expect you to have to suffer days of my charming personality and my wit before you relaxed around me."

"Maybe you're just better than you thought." Arthur laughed and Eames winked, pleased with Arthur's response. Seeing that Arthur was managing to get along fine with Eames, Yusuf backed out of the room, leaving them to it. He returned to his lab, grinning when he realised neither of them had noticed.

"How long are you staying?" Arthur asked. Eames sported a furtive look, and began scuffing his shoes against the floor.

"Well darling, I'm not actually sure at the moment. My job in Russia didn't exactly go according to plan, so until I can convince Cobol that it wasn't my fault, I'm on the run."

Arthur frowned. "This is your idea of staying safe?"

Eames smiled. "I'm unharmed and in hiding. I'm usually considered rather reckless. I'd have tried to deal with it myself if you hadn't told me to stay safe, darling.

Arthur couldn't hold back his smile, pleased he'd actually gotten through to Eames, although he filed away the name 'Cobol' for future reference. He opened his mouth to speak, when Eames' stomach gave a rather loud rumble. The Brit blushed and Arthur laughed loudly.

"I'm so sorry, where are my manners? I only ate … oh. About sixteen hours ago."

Arthur frowned disapprovingly. "Come on, lunch is on me." He turned to invite Yusuf, and then blinked when he realised the chemist wasn't there. "Yusuf?" He called.

"In the lab. Noticed I was gone did you?" Yusuf called back, and Arthur grinned at Eames sheepishly, who couldn't repress his grin. "I've got lunch plans with Ariadne, you don't mind going alone, do you?"

Arthur glanced at Eames who shook his head. "Not at all. I'll see you later then. So darling, where are you taking me?"

Arthur laughed as they waved goodbye to the chemist and headed out into the street. "Where do you want to eat?" He asked. "There's an Italian, a Chinese, Thai…?"

Eames thought about it. "Which do you prefer?"

"Clarkson's is my favourite place to eat. It's an Italian place." He explained. Eames gestured with his arm for Arthur to lead the way. Soon, they were sitting down at a table. Eames was perusing the menu while Arthur stared at him. Feeling the American's eyes on him, Eames looked up.

"Something wrong, darling?"

"No." Arthur shook his head. "I just can't believe you're actually here… I never even dreamed… we never talked about it."

Eames smiled. "I know. I wasn't sure if we were on the same page or not. I didn't know if you would want to meet me. But when the job screwed up… there was nowhere else I even considered going."

Arthur was touched and told Eames so. Eames just winked at him.

"I like this song." Arthur said suddenly. Eames listened; it was a French song, La Vie En Rose by Edith Piaf, a song he was quite familiar with. He nodded his head in agreement. It was beautiful.

"Il est entré dans mon coeur, une part de bonheur, dont je connais la cause." He sang along quietly, without knowing exactly what the words meant. To his surprise and delight, Arthur blushed furiously, and looked up at Eames through his lashes; a move which made Eames just want to sweep Arthur into his arms and kiss him thoroughly. He repressed the urge, and chuckled, apologising for his inability to sing.

They ordered, and carried on chatting about anything and everything that came into their heads. Eventually the talk turned to Eames' profession. Arthur felt edgy discussing it; he wasn't sure whether the subject was up for discussion or not. Eames, however, didn't seem to mind talking about it, so Arthur felt a little better asking questions about a previously taboo subject.

"What happens if they find you?" He asked, taking a bite of his pasta. Eames' face went suspiciously blank.

"They won't." He promised, quietly.

Arthur knew it was meant to stop him from asking, but he pushed his luck. Eames could tell him to leave the subject alone if he wanted, but Arthur wouldn't let it drop until he did.

"But if they do?" He pressed. He suspected he already knew the answer, but he had to hear it from Eames.

Eames looked at him seriously. "You know the answer to that as well as I do, darling."

Arthur sighed, nodding. "Yeah. I can guess."

The day was spent slowly getting to know each other anew. Arthur was overjoyed to find that Eames was equally as interesting in person, and felt like they'd been friends for years. They had so much in common, and there weren't any awkward silences where most people would have found one. After their brief lunch, which Eames declared was the best thing he'd eaten in months; Arthur asked if Eames minded if they stopped at his room. Eames agreed readily, so they took a leisurely stroll back through the campus.

Arthur unlocked the door with a practiced movement, and held it open for Eames, who followed him in gingerly. He glanced around the place where Arthur lived. What most people didn't seem to realise, was that a square foot of personal space could reveal so much. From looking around, Eames could see that Arthur was a tidy person; there was no unnecessary clutter around his room. His laptop was in a desk at the centre of the room, indicative of Arthur's prominent use of it, and everything he would need was in reach of the desk, showing that the small area surrounding was where Arthur spent most of his time.

"It's a nice room." Eames compliment. "You're a lot tidier than I am. Drives my flatmate mad that I can't clean up after myself."

Arthur laughed. "I'm not always this tidy. I just organised my assignment workload yesterday, so everything's still quite neat. Was there anything specific you wanted to do today?" He asked. "We could go and see a movie?

Eames' face lit up. "I haven't been to the cinema for _years_, darling, however did you know?"

The movie theatre was further away than was walkable, so they caught a bus across town. On the way, Arthur searched the listings for anything that looked interesting. They eventually decided on the newest Bond movie, which wasn't usually Arthur's cup of tea, but he had to admit, it did look good.

Arthur headed off to buy the tickets. Feeling like he should contribute to his share, Eames bought them a drink each and two lots of popcorn, unsure of Arthur's preference. He himself preferred sweet, but he imagined Arthur was a salty person.

"I didn't know which you'd prefer popcorn-wise." He explained. "So I got both." He offered Arthur the Pepsi he'd bought him. Arthur took it, thanking Eames. He made a face at the salty popcorn.

"I'm not a huge fan of salt." He admitted. Eames grinned and threw the salty popcorn away.

"Me either, darling. We'll share this." He grinned, and they moved into the theatre. It wasn't until the lights dimmed and the movie started that both of them realised that this had perhaps been a mistake. Eames' fingers clenched, biting into the arm rest, and he kept his eyes staring firmly ahead, as the darkness and the intimacy of the theatre magnified his attraction to Arthur tenfold. Arthur, likewise, felt the sparks between himself and Eames, but couldn't resist sneaking a glance at Eames. Spotting the look in his peripheral vision, the Brit refused to tear his eyes away from the opening credits, knowing it would be his undoing.

Distracted by his desire for the man next to him, Arthur failed to notice the film had started, until the famous Bond theme boomed out around him. He leapt out of his seat in fright, eyes wide. The moment gone, Eames glanced up at him, mirth visible in his expression. Arthur glared at him.

"Not a word." He hissed, and Eames couldn't prevent a low chuckle from escaping. Arthur retook his seat, angrily. Seeing Arthur was upset, Eames leaned over and took his hand, whispering a sincere apology. Arthur forgave him, and Eames settled back into his seat to watch the movie, both of them exceedingly aware that Eames was still holding Arthur's hand.

Three hours later, they emerged, having thoroughly enjoyed the film. Arthur learnt that Eames could also mimic accents very well, and was extremely good at impressions. They caught the bus back to campus, arguing amiably their opinions over who was the best James Bond.

"Darling, I've seen every Bond film ever released, and if you say anyone other than Sean Connery, then you are more uncultured than I thought you were. The original classic Bond cannot be beaten."

"Back in its day, maybe." Arthur countered. "The fact is that modern technology allows for better special effects, and said effects make for better movies. The fact is that Daniel Craig is the most recent Bond, and of a better stock of films."

"If the special effects were the same in 1960 as they were now, who would you say was the best Bond?" Eames asked, raising his eyebrow.

Arthur paused. "Sean Connery." He said grudgingly. "But the fact is, they're not, so he's not."

They headed back to Arthur's dorm, and ordered in a takeaway. Since Arthur had chosen lunch, he allowed Eames to choose what they would eat for dinner. He picked Chinese, so Arthur ordered soft noodles and egg foo yung, and Eames chose Satay chicken and fried rice. While they were waiting for their food, Eames took a trip to the local store and bought a pack of beer. He returned, handing one to Arthur.

"I'm twenty." He said immediately. Eames raised an eyebrow grinning.

"I promise not to tell if you don't." He laughed. Arthur grinned and snapped open the can, taking a sip. He found it wasn't as unpleasant as he remembered. He had drank alcohol before, but beer wasn't his first choice. He took another sip. Eames raised his own glass approvingly. By the time the food arrived, Eames had taken another trip to the store, for more beer and a bottle of white wine, which was much more Arthur's area.

Arthur, unused to drinking, found his tolerance was not very high, and very quickly found himself drunk. Eames himself felt a little more than tipsy as he hadn't eaten since lunchtime, but he was still more in control of himself than Arthur, so when the takeout arrived, Eames answered the door and paid.

Arthur stumbled over to the desk and attempted to eat his noodles, but he kept missing his mouth, a sight which Eames found hilarious. He gave up and pushed them away, working his way through the foo yung instead. The food did what was intended, and began to sober him up.

"Can you use chopsticks?" He asked Eames, who shook his head. "I can. But I think I'm still a little too drunk for them right now."

Eames nodded, adding that Arthur would probably find noodles on his ceiling in the morning if he tried to use chopsticks now. Arthur laughed and flipped him off.

Eventually, the effects of the alcohol wore off them enough that they calmed down, and they were left feeling tired. Eames stood up to head to Yusuf's, walking to the door quite unsteadily.

"Stay here tonight." Arthur offered. "I'll get you some blankets and you can give Yusuf a call."

"Are you sure?" Eames hesitated. Arthur waved him off impatiently.

"Of course. There's loads of room. And I have a spare bed. I'll just get some blankets for you."

He headed into his bedroom and Eames took advantage of his momentary solitude to send Yusuf a text and let him know where he would be staying. When Arthur returned, Eames thanked him.

"Don't worry about it. You're welcome here anytime." Arthur said seriously. Eames met his gaze and held it for a few seconds. A pink flush graced Arthur's cheeks and he ran his hand through his hair nervously. "I'm going to head to bed. Your bed's all made up whenever you want to go to sleep. Feel free to use my laptop or the TV or whatever." He paused. "Good night, Eames."

"Good night, darling." Eames replied quietly. Arthur's door closed and Eames could hear the sound of him getting undressed. He glanced around the room, and began to gather up the empty cans and bottles and dropped them in Arthur's recycling bin. He cleared away the remains of their Chinese, knowing that Arthur would likely have a hellish hangover come morning, and the smell wouldn't do him any favours. He ran the tap and searched through Arthur's cupboards for a glass, which he found quickly. He filled it and then headed for Arthur's room.

Outside, he paused, considering, and knocked once.

"Come in, Eames." Arthur called. He sat up in bed, and Eames ignored the fact that Arthur wasn't wearing a shirt. "Is everything okay? Do you need anything?"

"No, no." Eames assured him. "I just brought you a glass of water. You'll probably need it in the morning."

He placed it down on the bedside table and headed back out. As he shut the door, he winked at Arthur before heading to his own room.

Stripping off his jeans and socks, Eames slid into Arthur's spare bed. The buzz from the alcohol had all but dissipated, but the earlier warmth it had caused had been replaced by the affection he felt for the man in the room next door. As he drifted off to sleep, Eames started thinking about Arthur, unaware that, through the wall, the American boy was also thinking about him.

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**Wooo, so they finally met! I hope this lived up to your expectations. Next chapter soon, I promise. Please review, I'd love to know what you think! -DD**


	14. Author's Note

I'm taking a break from La Vie En Rose for a week or two, so there won't be an update until then. I have every intention of finishing the fic, and I promise not to take longer than two weeks to update.

You all deserve an explanation as to why, for being such amazing readers and reviewers.

I recently paid quite a bit of money, for a fan art commission, by an artists, whose name I shall not mention. Basically, they'd agreed to illustrate one scene from each chapter of La Vie En Rose, and I paid for the artwork, which I was assured would take no longer than a week.

Since then, the artist has closed down any method I had of contacting them, and has basically refused to refund the money I paid.

I feel extremely let down and I'm devastated I can't share with you the fan art I was promised.

Right now, I don't feel up to continuing La Vie En Rose. If I carried on writing now, the fic would end in the next chapter, with Arthur and Eames not getting the happy ending that I want them to have. I feel it's best that I take a brief break from writing, so that I can write the rest of the fic the way I want to, and the best that I can.

The next chapter will be uploaded no later than the 13th December 2012.

It's horrible to think that there are people out there like that, and I hope you don't blame me too much. I'm sorry to let you all down like this.

**DeeperDreams.**


	15. World Spins Madly On

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed or PM'd me about my author's note. I'm feeling a lot better now, thanks to all your lovely messages, better that I felt up to write and post the next chapter. Also, a friend of mine, solutionforreality, made a fan mix for La Vie En Rose, which can be found at the following link. You should all check it out; it captures the essence of La Vie En Rose so well!**

**8tracks dot com / solutionforreality / it-starts-with-one**

**Thank you so much Sara, it's fantastic :) xox**

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**Chapter Fourteen: World Spins Madly On**

Arthur awoke the next morning with a splitting pain in his head. He groaned in pain, and forced his eyes open, instantly closing them again when the sunlight made him want to die. His throat was dry; his tongue practically glued to the roof of his mouth. Understanding what Eames meant, he reached for the glass of water gratefully, gulping it down. He leaned over, resting his head against the cool wall. Every movement made his stomach churn. He groaned again, louder, and sank back down into his pillows, wishing for death. He couldn't even remember how he got like this.

A quiet tapping noise disturbed his thoughts.

"Arthur?" A voice called through the door. Arthur's eyes flew open as he recognised the voice. The events of the day before came flooding back to him.

"Come in!" He called, wincing when his volume made his head pound. Eames stepped in, fully dressed and looking no worse for wear, clutching a glass of water.

"Here, I thought you might need this." He handed Arthur the water and two painkillers. "I nipped out for some while you were still sleeping. I stopped at Yusuf's to change too."

Arthur thanked him and took the pills. "What time is it?" He asked, groggily.

Eames smiled. "Almost ten, darling. I thought it better to let you sleep off the worst of the hangover, but apparently you aren't quite there yet."

Arthur barked a laugh. "I am never getting drunk again, I can tell you that much. How do I feel better now?"

He sounded so woebegone, Eames laughed too. "Darling, there are no foolproof hangover cures; everyone swears by their own. The best things widely acknowledge are sleep, water and greasy food. Do you think you could handle the smell of bacon?"

Arthur nearly gagged. Eames grinned. "I'll bring you some dry toast for now. Try and eat it, I always manage to feel better myself after I've got something in me."

"Fuck you." Arthur rasped. Eames blinked in shock. "Feel better my ass, you look like you've crawled out of a magazine, you bastard."

Eames roared with laughter, dropping the volume as he saw Arthur flinch. "Apologies, darling. But honestly, I was exactly like you when I first started drinking. Worse, if I'm honest. I was throwing up for hours."

Arthur felt his stomach bubble. "I wouldn't count my chickens yet, I may possibly be sick. How come you're fine now then?"

"Years of practice, darling. Although you've never seen me after whisky."

Arthur frowned. "But you're only 22."

Eames frowned, not seeing the correlation. Then it dawned on him, and a large grin spread over his face. "Indeed I am darling, but the drinking age in England is eighteen, not twenty one."

Arthur buried his head in his hands. "Four years before I can handle it the way you can? I'm never drinking again."

Eames pouted, frowning. "I thought you had fun with me last night? I'll just go…" He joked, pretending to leave the room.

Arthur didn't realise the Brit was joking and threw himself out of bed, putting himself between Eames and the door.

"No!" He gasped. A cold draught all over his body alerted Arthur to the fact that he was standing in front of Eames in nothing but a pair of shorts. He tensed, but didn't move, refusing to let Eames leave. His own embarrassment wasn't important. The Brit's eyes flickered down Arthur's body and back up to his face.

"I was kidding, darling. I'm going to make you that toast." Eames smiled. Arthur relaxed, and stepped aside. Eames left the room, glancing back at Arthur's bare torso as he did so. Arthur, both embarrassed and pleased by Eames' attention, felt emboldened. He slid into his tightest jeans and threw on a snug sweater, before joining Eames in the kitchen. The pain in his head had receded slightly with the painkillers, but Arthur still felt ill.

"I can make it." He offered. Eames turned around and promptly dropped the slice of bread he was holding. He caught it before it hit the floor, but he gaped slightly at Arthur.

"Do I look terrible? I bet I look like death." Arthur worried, noticing Eames' stare. "I'm going to go back to bed."

"No, no!" Eames said hurriedly. "You look fine, darling. More than fine. You look great, especially considering you're hungover. Why don't you sit down and I'll bring this out when it's done?"

He did so, and both of them settled down on Arthur's sofa to eat their late breakfast. At first, Arthur could only nibble at the toast Eames had made for him, feeling his stomach churn, but when he started to feel better, he managed to take small bites. Eames watched approvingly, in between bites of his own breakfast.

When they'd finished their breakfast, Arthur cleared away the plates and Eames stood in the doorway as Arthur washed the dishes.

"What did you want to do today?" Arthur asked. He bit his lip. "You should probably spend time with Yusuf, he invited you to the party so he could see you, and I'm taking up all your time…"

Eames interrupted him. "It was Ariadne's idea to invite me, and Yusuf has asked me to come and visit him a lot of times, but never expects me to do it. When I got to his flat, just after everyone had left, he seemed amazed to see me. He invited me because he wanted us to meet."

Arthur let this sink in. "What made you come? We'd never talked about it … I'd barely even considered it. You could have got here and I might have panicked and been unable to speak to you."

"Then I would have kept out of your way, apologised, and nothing would have changed." Eames said seriously. "You're a good friend, Arthur, and it would have been entirely my fault for surprising you. You were under no obligation to see me, darling, although I must admit, meeting you was something I'd been thinking about for a while."

"I thought it was something to do with your job being dangerous." Arthur admitted. "It was just something I accepted, that I would never meet you, so I didn't really think about it. And then there's the fact that I struggled to speak to people… I thought that you would think I was weird, or something. I _wanted_ to meet you, I just assumed I never would."

Eames nodded, thoughtfully. "Me too, darling. I wanted to meet the amazing person who has surprised me from day one. And you're just as interesting to me in person, Arthur, infinitely more so."

Arthur laughed. "Likewise, Eames. But you still haven't answered my question. What do you want to do today?"

Eames pondered. "Well," he began innocently. "You could just show me around, and then later we could go for a drink… _I'm kidding_!" He cried out as Arthur feigned annoyance, and began hitting him with a cushion. Eames raised his hands to defend himself and declare surrender.

"No, but seriously," Eames continued. "We'll just have a slow day. Nothing strenuous."

Arthur agreed. The rest of the morning was spent watching ridiculous daytime shows on the TV, with Eames making passing comments about how different America was to England.

Eventually, Arthur's stomach began to growl. Eames glanced up.

"Do you think you can handle normal food?" He asked. Arthur considered.

"I think so." He said tentatively. "I don't think I'll test it by having something heavy though."

Eames frowned. "That rules out most carbohydrates." He muttered, then brightened. "I can make you some chicken soup!"

Arthur recalled the first question he'd ever asked Eames when he'd asked the Brit to describe himself in fifty words. Back then, Eames had told him he could cook, although he had never mentioned it since. Deciding that whatever Eames cooked couldn't be worse than how he felt at that moment, he agreed readily.

Eames grinned. "You're underestimating my skill again, darling. People have been known to fall in love with me over my cooking." He headed off into Arthur's kitchen.

"Whereas I've fallen in love with you before I've tried it." Arthur murmured, shaking his head as he followed the thief, tentatively. When Eames all but chased him out, Arthur retired to his sofa, sulkily.

"You do realise, Mr Eames, that this is _my house_." He called. "I have no qualms about forcibly ejecting you from the premises."

Eames' laugh echoed around the flat. "Darling, even if you were feeling one hundred per cent, you couldn't forcibly eject me from _any_ premises." He stuck his head out of the kitchen door. "But don't take offence, darling. There are few who could."

He disappeared, chuckling, as Arthur threw a cushion where his head had been only seconds before. While Eames was working, Arthur's phone rang. He answered it, noticing that it was Ariadne.

"Hey Ari, what's up?" Arthur answered, cheerfully.

"You sound perky. Is Eames with you?" Ariadne asked. "No, don't answer that, I can guess he is. It's Mal's turn for movie night tonight, and Yusuf and I thought you might want to give her a little notice if Eames is going to be there."

Arthur blanched. "Shit! I totally forgot to tell Mal and Dom! I'll give them a call in a minute. Thanks, Ari."

Ariadne laughed. "No problem. The other thing I wanted to ask you was … would you mind if Eames stayed with you? I spoke to Yusuf, and we thought maybe he'd want to stay there with you, and that you'd want him there. It's absolutely cool if you don't. I just guessed you might not want to bring it up."

Arthur smiled. "I was thinking about it, but I'll ask him on both counts, and then I'll let you know. We should do something tomorrow. I'll call you back in an hour or two."

They said goodbye, and Arthur hung up the phone. "Eames!" He called, pushing open the kitchen door. A tantalising aroma met his nostrils and he inhaled deeply and appreciatively. "Eames, can I talk to you when you're done?"

Eames looked surprised. "Of course, darling. Let me just - ahh, there we go." He turned off the stove top. "Grab me two bowls, would you?"

Arthur grabbed the bowls and slid them onto the bench. Eames ladled the soup from the saucepan into them and slid one towards Arthur, who sniffed it, sighing with delight. He picked up a spoonful and blew until it was cool. Eames waited until Arthur had sampled it, before eating his own.

"What do you think, darling?" He asked between mouthfuls.

"Do you want to stay here while you're in LA?" Arthur blurted. He blinked. "I mean, I was going to ask you anyway, that's what I wanted to talk to you about, but if you can cook like this, I'd keep you here forever if I could."

Eames laughed, and nodded, thanking Arthur.

"Darling, be careful what you wish for." He grinned. "Unless I can find a way to prove my innocence to Cobol, I may _be _here forever. Or at least a considerable amount of time."

Arthur smiled. To him, that wasn't a bad thing. He felt he could never get tired of Eames. He could be around forever, and that wouldn't be long enough for him. Remembering their plans for the evening, he broached the topic.

"Hey, uh, I haven't actually told Mal and Dom you're here yet." He started, tentatively. Eames' smile faded, and then it brightened again.

"Don't worry about it, darling. In my line of business, I find that people can be quite judgmental. I mean, I've never experienced it personally, but there are a few of us, and I've heard stories. You shouldn't be known to associate with me, Arthur. It can end up quite unpleasant."

Arthur stared at him. "You know I appreciate it when you're direct, Eames. I've been with you ever since you got here, when have I had the chance to call and tell them? I was going to do it after we'd finished eating. It's movie night tonight, and I need to let Mal know you're coming." He paused. "Eames, I'm not ashamed to be your friend."

Eames looked a little awkward. "I'm glad to hear that darling, but I…er…think I might go and pick my things up from Yusuf's while you make that call."

"Why?" Arthur asked, frowning. "If you wait till I'm done, I can come with you."

"Well, you see, darling, I…" Arthur raised an eyebrow. Eames swallowed. "Right. Speak bluntly. To be frank, I don't see the conversation going well. Mal doesn't like me, by all accounts, and I think it will be an issue. So I thought I would make myself scarce, and then when I come back, if she doesn't want me there, I'll find a way to entertain myself."

Arthur sighed, fondly. "I sorted things with Mal, it should be fine. But if you'd rather not be present, go ahead, and I'll call while you're out."

They finished their soup in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. When they were finished, Arthur slid his key across the table towards Eames, who pocketed it, smiling. He nodded to Arthur, and disappeared out of the door, while Arthur reached for his phone to call Dom.

"Hey, Dom." He greeted when his friend picked up.

"Hey, Arthur. You still coming tonight?" Dom asked.

Arthur paused. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about. Eames is here."

"Eames is where?" Dom asked, bewildered.

Arthur smiled. "Well, right now, he's on his way to Yusuf's to pick up his things, and then he's staying with me for a while. He got here yesterday."

He listened carefully, and could practically hear the penny drop. "Why didn't you tell me you'd arranged to meet him?" Dom said accusingly.

"I didn't." He denied the accusation. "Yusuf invited him for the party a few days ago, but he was working. He turned up yesterday when he'd finished his job."

Dom sighed. "And by 'job', you mean…"

"You know very well what I mean." Arthur said, sharply. "And I don't want it rubbed in his face tonight either. The subject is taboo unless he brings it up."

"You want us to meet him?!" Dom exclaimed. "Not that I don't want to." He added hurriedly. "That's not what I meant. I just thought you wouldn't Mal anywhere near him after everything that happened."

"That's in the past." Arthur said firmly. "Mal promised that Eames was as welcome as her friend as I am, so there shouldn't be an issue."

"Good." Dom said. "Then I look forward to meeting him."

There was an undercurrent in his tone that made Arthur a little uneasy. "Dom? You will give him a chance, won't you?"

"Of course." Dom promised. "As if I'd never heard of him until tonight. He clearly means a lot to you, Arthur, and that means a lot to me."

Arthur relaxed. "Thanks Dom. I don't suppose…" He trailed off, but Dom knew exactly what Arthur had been about to say.

"Hell no, Arthur!" He laughed. "You can tell Mal yourself. I'll see you tonight."

Arthur hung up and dialled Mal's number. She picked up the phone instantly.

"Arthur, my friend! I hope you are looking forward to tonight, I'm sure you will approve of the movie I chose."

"I'm intrigued." Arthur laughed. "But there's something I need to talk to you about. There'll be an extra person for our movie night this evening."

She gasped. "Don't tell me the illustrious _Eames _is in town? Of course, Arthur, by all means, bring him! I must apologise to him for all the trouble I caused. What's he like in person?"

Arthur laughed, secretly relieved, suspecting Mal might make trouble, but she truly had gotten over her dislike of Eames.

"He's everything he was online and more." Arthur replied honestly. "We have the same connection in person, it's like I've known him for years rather than months."

Mal laughed, a high tinkled sound. "He is good for you, my friend. I cannot wait to meet him." She paused. "I must go, my friend, Dom is at the door. I'll see you tonight."

Arthur bade her farewell, suddenly optimistic about the evening ahead. He set down his phone and picked up the dishes from earlier, stacking them so they were ready to clean later. Taking advantage of the empty house, he hopped in the shower, to wash away the remnants of his hangover.

* * *

The sound of the front door closing alerted him to Eames' return. He heard footsteps exploring the house, stopping outside of the bathroom door.

"Arthur? I'm back." Eames called.

"Okay, be out in a few!" Arthur called back, rinsing the shampoo from his hair. As soon as he was done, he stepped out of the shower, towelling himself off quickly, before dressing. He found Eames in the living room, channel flicking. He looked up when Arthur entered the room, smiling.

"How do you feel now?" He asked, referring to the shower.

"More human than I did this morning." Arthur admitted. "Probably for the best you don't mention that I got drunk yesterday to anyone tonight. I don't exactly have a reputation for consuming an abundance of alcohol. Or any alcohol at all for that matter. People might think it's your influence." He grinned. "And little Ariadne packs a good punch."

Eames smirked. "You make it sound like I corrupted you, darling. You took the beers of your own accord. But if it makes you feel better, I won't tell your friends that you're a lightweight."

Arthur scowled, much to Eames' amusement. "I bet you were a lightweight on your first time drinking seriously."

Eames held up his hands in defeat. "That's true enough. You should have seen me, I was throwing up everywhere. Got us all kicked out of the pub… my friends were less than impressed." He reflected, fondly. "Of course, I've a much better tolerance now. Unless I drink whisky, then things get nasty. Anyway, what are we doing until we go to Mal's." He clapped his hands together.

"Ariadne's." Arthur corrected. "We usually go to Ari's, because her room is more central, and is the biggest. We just take turns in picking the movie. Talking of which, have you watched the DVD's I bought you for Christmas yet?"

"Not yet," Eames replied sheepishly. "I had to leave for Moscow on Boxing Day. I promise I'll watch them when I get back. I'm wearing the watch you got me though." He gestured to his wrist. Arthur smiled, pleased.

"I read the book you got me. I love it; The Phantom Of The Opera was something I always wanted to read, but never got around to it. Ariadne dragged me to see the musical for her birthday a few years ago and I really liked it, so it was great to see how different the book was. Have you read it? Or seen the musical?"

Eames grinned, and something dark appeared in his eyes. "_And though you turn from me to glance behind, the phantom of the opera is there inside my mind_." He sang. Arthur paused, staring, as Eames started singing. He wasn't an amazing singer, but he hit the notes, and there was something of a charm to his voice. Arthur smiled, appreciatively.

"I've read it too." Eames continued, as if he hadn't burst into song. "I liked the musical, but it just wasn't believable in the way the phantom was portrayed. I felt Leroux wrote Erik as vulnerable, manic, like his love for Christine could overpower her, but she in no way returned his feelings. He addressed what is so often true in today's society – that flaws simply cannot be overlooked."

Arthur got the distinct feeling that Eames was only half talking about the character. "I don't agree. When she first kissed Raoul, she did it because he wouldn't let the subject of the phantom drop. She saw his face, and feared him, and yet she felt compassion. I think his music scared her, she was scared of how she was feeling, and like the musical, she was rushed into making a decision. I think, had she been given time to think, she would have chosen Erik in both the book and the musical. Flaws are there to be loved, not overlooked." He said firmly.

Eames nodded, thoughtfully, but didn't speak. Silence fell between them, each reflecting on the magnitude of the effect Arthur's words had bestowed on them.

"Come on." Arthur said finally. "We need to head to Ariadne's, or we'll be late."

Eames pulled on his jacket, and Arthur grabbed his wallet and phone, and they headed out, lost in their own thoughts.

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**Okay, so I managed to eventually get the chapter written. For those of you that are interested in smut, any mention of it has been cleared from FF net, but is available on AO3, the link for which is on my profile, and there is a missing scene from this chapter. Please review, they always brighten my day, I love to know what you think or if you have any suggestions! -DD**


	16. Not Always Rainbows And Butterflies

**Okay, so this chapter is a pretty special one for me, and is my favourite of the ones I've written so far; you'll see why when you've finished. I'm getting quite snowed under with university work at the moment, but I'm trying my hardest to keep the chapters rolling out! I hope you enjoy chapter fifteen!**

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**Chapter Fifteen: Not Always Rainbows And Butterflies**

When Arthur and Eames arrived at Ariadne's dorm, everyone was already there. Arthur introduced Eames to his friends, who all seemed to warm to him at once. Dom, at first suspicious, shook Eames' hand with a strength that caused his knuckles to whiten. Eames returned the grip with equal force, and Arthur was pleased to notice that the thief didn't so much as flinch at the strength of Dom's grasp, but Dom's hand clenched when he withdrew from the handshake.

When Eames was deep in discussion with Mal about France, where the Frenchwoman was delighted to hear Eames had been quite a few times, Ariadne took the opportunity to murmur her approval in Arthur's ear.

"I like him. He's very charming." She whispered. "I shouldn't have doubted you or Yusuf."

Arthur smiled, nodding wistfully when Ariadne asserted how handsome Eames was. He'd known that from the beginning; it was part of the reason he'd picked Eames for the assignment in the first place. Eames was just everything he wanted, but would never have. Refocusing on what Ariadne was saying, they moved over to re-join the conversation. Dom had joined in, and was quizzing Eames on his personal life.

"So, Eames, Arthur tells us you're a security guard? Is that dangerous?" Dom said pleasantly. Arthur felt a pang of annoyance at Dom skirting close to the subject he had clearly stated was taboo. Afterwards, he recognised that it would be more awkward if the subject of Eames' profession was avoiding all night, and Dom had obviously given Eames a way to avoid the subject of his criminal tendencies.

Eames' eyes darted towards Arthur and a flicker of a grin appeared momentarily, before it was gone. He leaned forward, ensuring he had everyone's attention.

"I think it's for the best if we were all on the same page." He said, amused. "I like to think I know Arthur well enough to know that, while he respects my privacy, he won't keep a secret from you, Dom. So I'm willing to bet that he's told you that I moonlight as a criminal, but he hasn't told you what it is I actually do, am I right?"

Arthur flushed and Dom nodded. "Yes. You have a direct way of addressing things, Eames. I can see that Arthur would approve."

Eames laughed. "Yes, I suppose so. But in all seriousness, I know Yusuf will have already told Ariadne, so while I can't share any major details, I'm happy to satisfy your curiosity. In a nutshell, I'm a thief, and if I say so myself, a bloody good one."

Dom raised an eyebrow and Mal chuckled. She liked Eames. He winked at her, grinning. "Any questions?"

"What do you steal?" Mal asked, leaning forward, curiously.

"Paintings, vases, statuettes, anything I'm told to." He said simply. "Impenetrable museums are my speciality, but I'm an excellent card player and I have a fantastic sleight of hand in public too. But let me assure you that I have never and will never steal from a friend, nor a friend of a friend."

"Can you show us?" Ariadne asked, eagerly. "If you can tell us what's in our pockets by the end of the night, without us catching you, I'll give you twenty bucks."

"You've got thirty four dollars in your left pocket, and your phone in the other, along with a screwed up bus ticket from two days ago. Yusuf has a packet of cat food in his right jacket pocket, and his keys in the back pocket of his jeans. Mal is carrying nothing, because Dom has her purse and keys in his inside jacket pocket, along with his own wallet." Eames rattled off.

Everyone emptied their pockets, marvelling as they found out Eames was right. Arthur frowned at the fact that Eames hadn't mentioned him.

"You forgot about me." He pointed out. Eames' face grew serious.

"I did." He agreed readily. "But I saw what you put in your pocket before we left your dorm, so it would be cheating." His eyes darted around and saw everyone else was still wondering when he'd been in their pockets, and he took the opportunity to lean closer to Arthur. "And, to be frank, darling, if I checked your pockets in _those _jeans, it would be classed as sexual harassment." He purred, in a low tone, before straightening up and chatting to Dom. Arthur felt his cheeks heat up, partly in embarrassment and partly with desire. His eyes darkened and he got an idea.

"You said you can play cards?" Arthur pulled out his wallet and took out ten dollars. "Ten says I can beat you at blackjack."

Eames grinned. "Nah, darling, it wouldn't be fair to take your money. I told you, I'm very good at cards, even without cheating."

Arthur smirked. "I insist."

Eames' eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Fine." He said eventually. "But don't say I didn't warn you."

Ariadne retrieved a deck of cards and two rolls of quarters, and Eames counted and shuffled them expertly, never removing his eyes from Arthur, who admired the finesse at which Eames handled the cards. When they were thoroughly satisfied that the cards were in a random order, Eames dealt them. For the first five hands, Arthur played cautiously, either matching or losing to Eames. After the fifth hand, everything changed. Eames watched in disbelief as Arthur began to bet higher and higher and winning more quarters. He scrutinised the deck for signs of tampering, clues that Arthur knew which way the deck was stacked. He was certain Arthur was cheating, he just didn't know how. Eames grinned to himself; if that was the way Arthur wanted it; that was the way he was going to get it. He began to deal himself the winning hands, but Arthur seemed to recognised what he was doing and started to bet cautiously again.

At last, he realised what Arthur was doing and his head snapped up, gaping.

"You can count cards." He said hoarsely, his eyes shining. Arthur bowed his head in acknowledgement, grinning, and everyone stared at him, gaping. It wasn't something Arthur had ever told them. He'd only figured out he could do it a few years ago, and always bowed out of card games because he couldn't switch off the ability. Eames slid ten dollars over to Arthur who grinned and pushed it back.

"All in good humour." He grinned, and Eames took back the bill, but slid it into Arthur's pocket slowly, winking at Ariadne as he did so, who was watching him, grinning.

"Very impressive, Arthur." Mal grinned, and Dom nodded eagerly. It was only a small revelation to them, but Eames looked at Arthur in a whole new light, seeing depths to the American that he'd never noticed before. Arthur could be extremely useful in his line of work; counting cards was a fairly rare ability, and mixed with Arthur self-acclaimed ability to research anything thoroughly, he could be fairly useful in planning jobs. Eames dismissed the thought as he realised Arthur was speaking to him.

"Sorry, darling, what was that? My head was in the clouds."

"I asked if you would teach me a few tricks. I'd love to know how to stack a deck." Arthur asked, tentatively.

Eames grinned, and picked up the cards, shuffling them once more, before taking the top one and holding it out so the others could see it, but so that he couldn't.

"Ace of spades, seven of diamonds, two of clubs, five of diamonds." He chanted, placing down each card and pulling the next. "The easiest way to do it is to pre-stack the deck to a specific order, which means you can't riffle shuffle."

He proceeded to show them two ways in which it was possibly to cheat by stacking a deck of cards. After he'd finished, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a poker chip.

"This was the first casino chip I ever won, the first time I ever cheated at cards." Eames told him. "It was in Mombasa, about two years ago. A lot of people condemn cheating, but I disagree. In a casino, the house cheats people out of their money, through the odds alone. This chip reminds me that you make your own luck, and that you need to take chances to get anywhere in life. It's a philosophy I live by, and it's never failed me yet."

Everyone listened silently, secretly in awe of the thief. Eames seemed to realise that he had commandeered everyone's attention and cleared his throat, awkwardly.

"Yeah, so, enough cards. What film are we watching?" He asked.

Mal blinked. "Oh. I chose Pulp Fiction." She said, half-heartedly. "Shall we put it on?"

Arthur grinned; he loved Tarantino movies. Everyone moved away from the table to settle down in their usual seats; with Ariadne and Yusuf on the floor. Eames hung around, awkwardly, not knowing where to sit until Mal patted the seat next to her, smiling. Dom excused himself to go to the bathroom, and Arthur went to get a glass of water. He came back into the room, opening his mouth to speak, when his eyes fell on Eames, whose lips were currently pressed against Mal's. He stopped dead, unable to believe his eyes. Distantly, he heard Ariadne gasp as she and Yusuf spotted the kiss.

Devastated, Arthur felt his heart shatter as he saw the person he'd fallen in love with, locked in an embrace with his best friend's girlfriend. As his eyes focused on the scene in front of him, Arthur's mind remembered a similar scene, when he'd walked in on Nash and Robert Fischer; a betrayal which had almost destroyed him. His friendship and growing feelings for Eames had started to heal the wounds left by Nash's adultery. Now, he appeared to be back to square one, as once again he felt his chest clutch in familiar agony; the agony of his heart being stamped on by the man he'd fallen in love with.

Arthur's grip loosened and the glass of water fell from his hands and smashed on the floor, just as Eames and Mal broke apart furiously. Immediately, Mal raised her hand and slapped Eames sharply across the face.

Eames jumped up and stared at everyone. His mouth was opening and closing like he was trying to speak, but he couldn't find the right words. Eventually, he turned back to Mal, his eyes narrowed, and an expression on his face that neither Arthur nor Yusuf had ever seen there before. For the first time, they saw the side of Eames that worked for Cobol. The ruthless, dangerous side.

"This was your plan all along, wasn't it? I knew I smelt a rat when Arthur said you were fine with me coming." He said, his tone thoroughly disgusted as he clutched his cheek. He turned to Arthur, beseechingly. "Arthur, on my word of honour, I didn't kiss Mal, she practically attacked me and I was so surprised, it came out of nowhere!" He moved towards the American, who took a step back, feeling like the world around him had collapsed. "Arthur, I'm _gay_ for Christ's sake! Why would I want to kiss Mal?"

Eames fought back the tears that were pricking at his eyes as he realised Arthur didn't believe him. The atmosphere in the room was like ice, and Eames couldn't bear it. He turned to Yusuf, pleadingly, who surveyed him, seriously.

"Swear to me you're telling the truth." The chemist said quietly. Eames nodded, frantically.

"On my mother's life." Eames swore, running a shaky hand through his hair. "Yusuf, you know I'm no liar."

Yusuf nodded. "I believe you."

Mal gasped in outrage, and Yusuf turned to her. "He's not a liar, Mal." He said, coldly. "And the way you've been acting recently, I have no other choice but to believe him. I've known Eames far longer than I've known you; he was my roommate in England. And one thing I know for certain is that he tells the truth, no matter the price."

Mal began to sob, and Dom reappeared in the doorway, his eyes searching as he spotted the tension crowding the room. "What happened?" He demanded, swooping over to Mal to comfort her.

"Eames kissed me, and Yusuf doesn't believe me." She sobbed. "Dom, tell them I'm not lying!"

"I didn't kiss anyone!" Eames cried out. "For fuck's sake, she kissed _me_!"

Dom snarled at him. "Like anyone's going to believe a word you say? You keep away from her, do you hear me?"

Eames gritted his teeth. "Are you listening to me, mate? Has anyone actually told you that I'm gay? I don't want to go anywhere near your psycho girlfriend!"

Mal's breath hitched and Dom cried out in anger, leaping towards Eames. Swiftly, Arthur stepped forward and pinned his best friend's arms behind his back, rendering Dom unable to move. Dom continued to struggle for a few minutes, before relaxing. When Arthur was certain Dom had calmed down, he released his grip.

"Stay calm, Dom." Arthur said, coldly. "I want to hear what happened. Someone is lying, and I want the truth before you start throwing punches."

Dom gaped at him, disbelievingly. "What the fuck are you talking about, Arthur? You've known Mal for three years, and she's never given you reason to doubt her. Your loyalty and trust should be with your friends!"

Arthur stared at him, coolly, managing to keep himself in check, even though he was falling to pieces inside. "It's not a matter of loyalty, Dom." He turned to Eames, who met his gaze unflinchingly. His eyes conveyed his innocence. Arthur seemed satisfied by what he saw, and turned back to his best friend. "It's a matter of the truth, and Eames has never been afraid of being straight with me, no matter the cost. If he'd kissed her, I know he would admit it."

Dom sneered, disgustedly. "So he cons his way into your life, kisses my girlfriend, and you're going to take his side? How can you call yourself my friend when you would take his side over Mal's? I won't have him in my life, Arthur, there's no space for someone like that. It's either us or him."

Eames' shoulders drooped. He knew he could never compete with Dom. His head bowed, he opened the front door, intent on getting as far away from Arthur and Los Angeles as soon as possible. Bitterly, Eames reflected that he should never have come. Nothing good had come of it; it had resulted in the loss of Arthur's friendship.

"Stay where you are." Arthur said without turning around, his voice commanding. Eames paused, daring to lift his eyes, hopefully.

Arthur faced his best friend, sadly. Dom looked at him hopefully, his eyes beseeching Arthur to make the right choice.

"Arthur, please listen to me. We've been friends all our lives; I can't remember a time when we _weren't _friends. I was there with you through everything, and I've never done anything to make you doubt me. Mal wouldn't lie to me. Trust my judgement."

Arthur swallowed the lump in his throat. "I can't. I understand that you have to believe Mal, Dom, but I need you to understand why I have to believe Eames."

Dom shook his head. "I'm sorry, I can't."

Arthur leaned over and grasped his friend's shoulder, briefly, before moving back to stand with Eames. "Then, if you're going to make me choose, I believe him. I'm sorry, Dom."

Even through all the hurt, betrayal and disappointment, Dom didn't look surprised. "Ari, where do you stand on this?"

"If Arthur and Yusuf believe him, that's good enough for me. I'm so sorry, Dom, but I can't not side with Yusuf." She said; her voice trembling as the weight of her decision became clear to the room. "I'd like you both to leave, please."

Dom glared at her as Mal sobbed harder. He wrapped an arm around his girlfriend and began leading her to the door. He stopped; his eyes hateful as he turned to Eames.

"If you come near her again, not even Arthur will stop me from ripping you apart." He growled, sweeping from the room, and slamming the door, leaving the four remaining friends standing silently in Ariadne's living room.

"Ari, I'm so sorry you had to do that." Arthur apologised, sweeping her into a hug.

She hugged him back, tightly, holding back her tears. Her mouth found his ear and she murmured quietly. "I trust Yusuf's judgement, and heaven forbid, I actually believe Eames. But where he's concerned, Arthur, you're blind to everything but what he tells you. Your feelings for him cloud your own judgement."

She pulled back slightly. "You've always been my best friend, and my trust in you has never wavered. Don't make me regret this decision." She smiled slightly, before joining her boyfriend, leaving Arthur to his thoughts.

The sound of the door closing made Arthur's head snap up. He scanned the room and immediately noticed that Eames was gone. Yusuf nodded at the door urgently, signalling for Arthur to go after him, and the student didn't need to be told twice. Wrenching open the door, he sprinted out into the street. His eyes desperately searched around the area for Eames, but there was no sign of him. Shit. He ran back into Ariadne's house.

"He's gone." He gasped, biting his lip. "Where would he go, Yusuf?"

Yusuf shook his head. "I've no idea, as far as I'm aware, you and I are the only people he knows in LA. I'm sorry."

Arthur sighed, dejectedly. Eames was gone and there was nothing he could do about it. Ariadne stepped forward to console her friend.

"Look for him." She suggested. "He might just be upset and has gone for a walk. He can't have gone far."

Something about Ariadne's words tugged at his memory. Frowning, he focused, closing his eyes and pushing his distress to one side to remember what was nagging at him.

_**My job is illegal, and I smoke when upset.**_

Arthur's eyes flew open. "The general store around the corner. One of the first things Eames ever told me was that he smokes when he's upset."

Without evening saying goodbye, Arthur dashed out of the door, heading in the direction of the store. There was no guarantee that Eames would be there long. Sure enough, as he ran down the block, Arthur saw a shadow emerge from the doorway and pause, lighting up a cigarette.

"Eames!" He called, running over to his friend. Eames looked up in surprise, the cigarette dangling casually from his lips.

"Arthur." He greeted coolly. Arthur stopped, feeling the icy greeting like he'd just been slapped in the face. Without even hesitating, he spun on his heel, starting to walk away.

"Forget it." He called back. "After everything I just did, everything I just _lost_ so that we could stay friends, and you're just going to push me away again. I'm through wasting my time with you, Eames. I'll drop your things off at Yusuf's later tonight."

Eames dropped the cigarette and chased after him. "Arthur, wait! I'm sorry."

Arthur stopped. Eames gestured for Arthur to join him as he hoisted himself up on a nearby wall, staring at the floor while Arthur examined his feet. Eames felt like he didn't deserve to look Arthur in the face, and Arthur wasn't sure what he would read in Eames' face if he did look up.

"There was a moment when you doubted me." Eames stated quietly, eventually forcing himself to look at Arthur. Arthur's deep brown eyes flickered up to meet Eames' grey ones, searchingly.

"Yes." He admitted, finally. "You know why."

"I do." Eames inclined his head. "And while I can understand and respect that it's hard for you to trust me after everything that happened to you, you need to understand that I'm not Nash."

Arthur nodded, glancing away at the horizon. "I know. In ordinary circumstances, I'd never have even considered it. But there was too much at stake tonight, and either way, I was going to lose a hell of a lot."

He hopped down from the wall, and held out his hand to Eames, who took it, not letting go once he'd jumped down. In the light of the streetlamps, Arthur led the way back to his room. Not a word was spoken between them until Arthur unlocked the door.

"You chose me." Eames murmured, questioningly.

"I did."

"You've known Dom all your life and Mal for three years, and yet you chose me, when we've been talking for about nine months." Eames stared at Arthur. "Why?"

"You were telling the truth." Arthur said simply.

"I was." Eames agreed readily. "But you didn't know that."

Arthur frowned. "I trust you." He said it like that was explanation enough; like the reason was enough to satisfy him.

Eames shook his head. "You shouldn't. I'm a thief."

"But not a liar." Arthur pointed out. He sighed, realising Eames was going to push the issue. "Eames, I've told you already, I know there's more to you than you like people to think. You've never lied to me, or let me down. And there's something not quite right about Mal recently. I believe she kissed you, but I can't work out why. She's usually so lovely. Then there's the fact that Yusuf believed you, which is another added reason to trust you. And even without all of that, after I pushed away my insecurities, there was not a single part of me that doubted you."

His voice began to shake. "I've lost Dom over this, Eames, and while I don't regret the choice I made, I'm scared. I don't think I can do this without you anymore and that terrifies me. I don't want to lose you too."

Eames reached over and pulled Arthur into a hug, who clung to him tightly, suddenly feeling very young. Eames tried not to notice how perfectly Arthur's body fit to his, or that Arthur smelt like old books, and summer, and tea; everything Eames loved. He concentrated on comforting the man in his arms, and whispering promises in his ear.

"There's nothing left for me without you, Arthur. If there's one thing this trip has taught me, it's that I don't want to wake up and face the day without you."

A sudden bolt of courage came over him, and he withdrew slightly, looking Arthur in the eyes. Slowly, and gently, he leaned forward and present a hesitant, gentle kiss to Arthur's lips. His eyes fluttered shut at the fleeting embrace, savouring the moment, before he pulled away and drew them back into a hug.

The conversation stopped there for the night. Both of them had more to say and they both knew that there was more to discuss, but in that moment, the love they felt for each other was just enough.

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**Okay, so there was a lot of angst in that chapter, and I didn't actually intend for them to kiss so soon, but it just fit in beautifully, so I had to include it. So as not to give you false hope, this is the last kiss they will have for a while, because they're not actually going to get together for a while.**

**Please please review! -DD **


	17. Steadily Emerging With Grace

**Okay, so I already had this written at the same time as chapter fifteen, but I'm uploading now, because I have so much work to do, it could be another week before I get another chance to start writing chapter seventeen, and here seemed like a good place to pause. It's also a tiny bit shorter than usual. Regardless, I hope you like it :)**

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**Chapter Sixteen: Steadily Emerging With Grace**

The next day was a testament to how much they meant to each other. Arthur didn't know what to do with himself. Ever since the brief moment that Eames' lips brushed against his, Arthur had struggled to contain the overwhelming emotions threatening to burst out of him. He felt love, affection and trust towards Eames, but at the same time, felt incredibly guilty that he'd thrown away a friendship he'd relied on for most of his life. On top of that, there was worry about Mal, whose behaviour had become increasingly erratic for the last few months, guilt that his feelings for Eames were responsible for destroying the friendship between Dom and Ariadne and worry that Eames wouldn't want to stick around after what had happened the previous night.

Either way, on that final count, Arthur could breathe a sigh of relief. From the following morning when Arthur and Eames woke up on the sofa with their arms wrapped around each other, the kiss had been tactfully avoided on both sides. Eames had smiled tiredly up at Arthur, and gently extracted himself, wincing as he stretched out the kinks in his neck from the sofa. Both of them recognised the kiss for what it was: a moment of comfort that they had so desperately needed, and sought from the other. Both Arthur and Eames secretly held in their hearts the hope that crossing that boundary would lead to more, but were still too unsure of the other's feelings.

Arthur wasn't sure if the Brit had simply been consoling him or if Eames felt the same about Arthur as Arthur did him. In turn, Eames was totally perplexed. He didn't know if Arthur hadn't stopped the kiss because he was clinging to Eames in his grief over losing Dom and Mal, or if there was something more. Either way, neither of them mentioned what had transpired.

"Eames," Arthur asked, hesitantly. "Are you leaving?"

Eames' head snapped up from the book he was reading; currently Bluebeard by Kurt Vonnegut. After finding out that Eames had never read a Kurt Vonnegut book, he had insisted that Eames take advantage of Arthur's collection, and Eames had picked Bluebeard. Arthur had read it, and nodded approvingly at the choice.

"Why?" Eames asked, feeling like his heart had stopped. "Do you want me to go?"

Arthur gaped. "No! Of course not, why would you even think that? I was just worried you wouldn't want to stick around after what happened with Mal…"

Eames put down the book. "Arthur, what happened with Mal was in no way your fault. Like you told me, she's not been herself recently." He paused. "But I do need to start finding out where Cobol's leak sprung from. It's nothing to do with you or Mal, but sooner or later I'm going to have to go home." He added hastily.

Arthur nodded. "I know, don't worry about it. While I might not appreciate the circumstances, I'm just glad you're here at all."

Eames grinned. "Me too, darling."

Arthur's phone buzzed, and he reached for it quickly. He opened the message and his face fell. Eames leaned over to read it, concerned.

"It's from Ari." Arthur said quietly. "Dom just called her and said he understood why she made the decision she did, because she couldn't take his side over Yusuf's any more than he could take your side over Mal's. He wants to see her in an hour, but _only_ her. She doesn't know whether to go or not."

"Call her." Eames nudged him gently.

Arthur swallowed. "I will, I just … Dom's been my friend for so long, it's going to be hard when we go back to college, and we're not speaking."

Eames' mind began to race for a way he could fix this. There had to be _something_ he could do, but short of Mal admitting the truth, which was about as likely as Cobol sending him flowers for a job well done, there was no way of repairing the damage. An idea slowly began to form in his head and he toyed with it, working out the details. When he'd planned everything, he stood up. He needed to move quickly.

"I'll leave you to make the phone call. I need to head over to Yusuf's anyway to pick up the rest of my things, I just need to call him and let him know … now where did I put my phone?"

It was in his pocket, as he very well knew, he just needed an excuse to go searching around the house. Arthur rose and headed into the kitchen to see if Eames had left it there. Using his talent of moving swiftly and quietly, Eames moved to the desk, flicking through the papers there until he found what he was looking for. He screwed up the paper and pushed it deep into his pocket.

"I've got it! I'll be back soon." He called, sweeping out of the door. Once in the street, Eames started running. He only had an hour to put everything in place. Reaching for his phone, he called Yusuf.

"Yusuf, I need a favour, I'm on my way. Is Ari with you? Good, keep her there, but don't tell her why, and don't mention this to Arthur. I'll see you in a few minutes."

Arriving at the chemist's house, Eames knocked on the door loudly. Yusuf answered it quickly, ushering him in.

"What's so urgent, Eames?" He frowned. "I'm in the middle of a really important experiment, I'm testing the reaction between…"

Eames cut him off. "I think I can fix everything that happened yesterday. I just need to borrow your lab and Ariadne."

"My _lab_?" Yusuf was astounded. "Absolutely out of the question."

Eames stared at him exasperatedly. "It's the only place with a lock on the outside; I need you to lock us all in."

Yusuf frowned, but nodded, understanding what Eames was planning, but there was only one minor drawback that he could see.

"How are you going to get them here? Dom's made it plain that he won't come here because he doesn't want to see me."

Eames smiled, soberly. "And _that_, mate, is where I come in."

He reached for the paper in his pocket and opened it, spreading it out. Yusuf glanced at it, completely bewildered. To him, it was just a page of Arthur's notes.

Eames studied the page for a few minutes, before he stole a pen and paper from Yusuf's desk and began to write a note to Dom, using Arthur's handwriting.

"You are a bloody genius." Yusuf marvelled. Eames grinned up at him, but didn't speak. When he was finished, he went in search of Ariadne. He found her in the kitchen, having just put down the phone to Arthur.

"Oh, hey, Eames." She said miserably. "I didn't know you were here."

Eames quickly explained the plan to her, handing her the note which he needed her to deliver to Dom. She agreed, raising her eyebrows as she looked it over.

"Arthur wrote this." She said, disbelievingly.

"He did." Eames lied. "Although you perhaps shouldn't mention it to him, Ariadne, there's a pet. He might not actually remember doing it. Why, is it not his handwriting?" He frowned, peering at the neat, flawless script that he distinctly recalled from Arthur's Christmas card.

"No, it's a perfect imitation." Ariadne grinned. "I just suspected that you wrote it, that's all. I'll give it to Dom as soon as I get there. It's really good of you to do this, Eames. I know that most people would have gotten the hell out of here after what happened yesterday."

Eames smiled. "I'd never leave Arthur to deal with this alone. I…" He stopped.

"You care about him." She finished for him. "Any idiot can see that. And, I may have had reservations at first, but you're a good guy, and you're good for him."

She left, leaving Eames feeling quite out of sync. Yusuf stepped up to him and Eames shook his head, making it clear that the discussion was off limits.

"How are you going to get Arthur here?" Yusuf asked. "He'll never agree to this."

Eames sighed. "Then it won't work. I won't lie to him." He reached for his phone and called his friend. "Arthur? I'm at Yusuf's. I've got an idea and I need you to hear me out before you interrupt."

He explained the details of his plan thoroughly, sheepishly admitting that he'd stolen a page of Arthur's notes to forge the letter he'd sent to Dom and Mal. Arthur listened silently to everything Eames had done, only speaking when the thief was finished.

"I'll be there in five minutes." He said simply.

"Now darling, that's not the right attitude to have. We both know…wait, what? You're coming?"

Arthur laughed. "Of course. If you think it will make her admit why she's being like this, then it's worth a shot. I'll see you in a few minutes."

Eames lowered the phone from his ear. "He's coming." He said, in amazement. When Arthur arrived, Eames let him in; taken aback when Arthur pulled him in for a hug, grateful at everything the thief had done to help Arthur keep his friendship. They settled down to wait and see if Dom and Mal would take the bait. Eames kept watch out of the window while Yusuf removed anything potentially dangerous from the lab, into his kitchen. Arthur sat on the sofa, absent-mindedly stroking Yusuf's cat as he waited. After about forty-five minutes, Eames looked over at Yusuf and nodded.

"They're here."

They moved quickly into the lab, Eames hiding behind the door so Mal and Dom wouldn't see him when they first entered the room. He met Arthur's eyes and smiled. Arthur bit his lip and looked down at his book, trying with all his might to look casual. When Dom and Mal entered the room, they walked straight past Eames, who kicked the door shut behind him, pleased as he heard the key scrape in the lock as Yusuf ensured none of them could get out.

"You." Dom snarled. "What the fuck is this?"

"An intervention." Eames said angrily. "Sit the fuck down, because you're going to listen to everything I've got to say and when I'm finished, I'll ask Yusuf to let us out."

Dom glared at him and Mal glanced at the door. Eames spotted it and shook his head. "Yusuf's been told not to let us out until I say so, so the sooner we get this over with, the sooner we get out."

Dom ignored him and turned to Arthur, scowling furiously. "You wrote that fucking note to trick us here?"

"Actually, I wrote it." Eames said pleasantly, sitting down comfortable. "You don't get to call yourself a bloody good conman unless you have some proficiency at forgery, and my handwriting is remarkably versatile. So, now that the pleasantries have been exchanged, can we get this over with?"

Dom glowered at him, but didn't speak. Mal began to grown pale, a light sheen of sweat on her brow.

"To start with," Eames began coldly. "I'd like to point out that, for all your obstinacy that I'm no good for Arthur, and I'm a bad friend, I'm not actually the one who's abandoned him. The only reason I'm wasting my time here at all is because I care about Arthur, and he cares about you. So we're going to get this settled. No, don't interrupt." He dismissed whatever it was Dom had been about to say. "You get your turn afterwards. I just have one question. What do you have against Arthur?" He directed at Mal.

She snarled at him. "Nothing at all. It's _you_ I object to. You infected his mind and turned him against us."

Eames looked at her, expressionlessly. "I did nothing. You did that all by yourself. Why do you object to me?"

Mal laughed scornfully. "Where do I even begin? You're a thief, a criminal, and you hold too much power over him."

"And because of my choice of profession, I can't be a good person too?" He commented, lightly, but her words stung. "And I assure you, I have no power over Arthur. He makes his own decisions."

"This is a complete waste of time." Dom gritted his teeth. "She's told Arthur what happened, and you're going to persist in lying. So why not let us out?"

Eames ignored him. He turned his grey eyes towards Mal, letting the fury slowly seep into his gaze. His stare was icy and Mal shifted uncomfortable. Gone was the charming Englishman that Arthur had met online. This was Eames, the thief, the forger, the criminal. Cobol's best man.

"Eames." Arthur spoke up warningly, spotting the subtle change. Eames blinked, his eyes returning to normal and his anger receding as quickly as it had appeared.

"Apologies. I don't know what came over me." He murmured. It was slowly becoming obvious that, while he could unnerve Mal, he would never get her to confess by scaring her. He pulled out his final ace and moved over to her, kneeling. Dom flinched and started to rise, but Arthur's hand on his shoulder stopped him from moving.

"I've heard a lot about you from Arthur, Mallorie Miles." Eames said quietly, but he knew that, regardless of his volume, even Yusuf and Ariadne would be able to hear him outside. "On more than one occasion I've heard about how you're a great friend, and how you helped him with Nash, and how you're lovely. What happened? Why does your unprovoked hatred of me justify the way you're treating Arthur, the hurtful things you've said to him?"

Mal began to shake, tears filling her eyes and her lip began to tremble. Arthur's fingers bit into Dom's shoulder, refusing to allow him to comfort her.

"Whatever it is you wanted to accomplish, it worked. Dom and Arthur will probably never repair their friendship because of this, and you know what the worst part of it is?" He allowed his eyes to fill with hurt. "Arthur's trying his hardest, but I can see it in his eyes that he'll never fully trust me again. So whatever your scheme was, it worked. Nothing you say now can undo the damage that kissing me did. So why don't you just admit the truth, because Yusuf and Ariadne won't let us out until you do."

The tears spilled out and she began to sob, shaking hysterically.

"Alright." She whispered. "Yes, I kissed him. I wanted Arthur to see sense so I planned the whole thing."

Dom gasped, hurt flooding his expression, but Eames only had eyes for Arthur, who looked stunned. It was one thing to know it, but another to hear her admit it. Arthur moved over to Mal slowly, and knelt next to her, taking her hand.

"Why, Mal? This isn't you. Everything you said to me that night outside Campus Coffee. What changed?"

Mal sobbed, wiping her eyes. "Nothing changed, Arthur. I meant it all. I… I'm so sorry." She reached into her bag and pulled out a box of pills, which she handed to Arthur. He glanced at it, confused, freezing when he read the label.

"Yusuf, come in here." He called sharply.

The door unlocked and Yusuf entered quickly, followed by Ariadne. Arthur handed him the pill box and Yusuf's eyes widened as he too read the label.

"_Clozapine_," he gasped. "Mal, this is an anti-psychotic."

"Schizophrenia." She sobbed. "I was diagnosed three years ago, but the pills I was on stopped working. Dom, will you call my father? I need to go home."

Dom nodded, and left the room. Arthur clutched her hand tightly, and she turned her watery eyes to him.

"Arthur, can you ever forgive me?" She wept.

Arthur stroked her back gently. "Always." He smiled gently. "There's nothing to forgive. I've always known that you weren't behaving like you."

Dom reappeared in the doorway. "I'm going to drive her home, then Miles is going to take her to the hospital." He said seriously. Arthur surveyed him. On the outside, Dom appeared calm and collected, but Arthur could read the agitation and panic in his stance.

"Go with them." He mouthed to Ariadne, who nodded. She wrapped an arm around Mal and led her firmly to her car, realising that Dom was probably in no position to be driving. Dom went to follow, and paused.

"Arthur," He started, running his hand through his hair. "I…"

Arthur cut him off. "Don't apologise to me. It wasn't me that you offended. In your position, I would have believed her too." He said curtly.

Dom looked abashed and nodded at Eames, who returned the nod, cautiously.

"Eames, I'm sorry for the way I acted, everything I said." Eames waved him off before he could continue.

"All in the past, mate. I don't suppose you'd be willing to try again, go for a drink sometime? We can meet properly, make a better first impression." Eames suggested graciously, offering his hand.

Dom managed a half-smile. "Any friend of Arthur's is a friend of mine." He shook Eames' hand firmly, and then left. Yusuf showed him out, leaving Arthur and Eames alone in the study.

"You didn't have to do that." Arthur spoke up. "You can't seriously want to see Dom or Mal again after everything that happened?"

Eames smiled. "Actually, darling, I did. And Dom's not such a bad bloke. His heart's in the right place. He's just very much in love with his girlfriend. And I was serious about the drink. You need to build up your tolerance, darling."

Arthur bit back a groan at the memory of his hangover. That had only been yesterday, but with everything that had happened, it seemed like a lifetime ago.

"How did you know what to say to her?" He asked, curiously. "How to get her to admit what happened?"

Eames smiled sadly. "I told her the truth. Half of it, anyway."

Arthur stared at him. "You know you're wrong, don't you? That I do trust you, completely, and anything you can see in my eyes is just your imagination."

"I know, darling." Eames promised, his expression lighting up just a little. "But it was what she needed to hear."

Yusuf returned to the room, asking how they both were and if they wanted a drink. Eames accepted quickly, refusing the offered whisky and settling with a beer in front of the television. Arthur accepted a glass of water, and joined Eames on the sofa. They were silent, none of them wanting to bring up the subject of Mal, but unable to find anything else to talk about. Even Eames, a master of conversation, struggled to find a topic that was unoffensive or tactful. Eventually, it was Arthur that managed to get them talking.

"What's Eames like after whisky?" He asked, suddenly. Eames froze and Yusuf roared with laughter.

"Oh, God, you've got no idea! Don't look at me like that, Eames, you shouldn't have told him that you can't handle whisky. He is the most slobbering, womanly Englishman you'll ever meet when he's been on the whisky. He cries, confesses his innermost feelings, and always ends up draped all over the nearest person. It's a fantastic sight to witness; I have a DVD somewhere…"

"Thank you so much for the drink, Yusuf." Eames said hurriedly. "Oh, is that the time, Arthur, I think I left the oven on…"

He grabbed Arthur's hand and pulled him out of Yusuf's flat; leaving the chemist laughing hysterically in his living room. Even Arthur couldn't stop his laughter as Eames quickly dragged him home, before the chemist could show him any videos of the embarrassing stunts he'd pulled while under the influence of whisky. On the way back to Arthur's flat, Eames felt surprisingly elated. While he was sure that one day Arthur would find himself unable to trust him anymore, Eames was sure that day was a long way off, and for now, he would make the most of the time he had with his friend.

* * *

**Okay, so backing away from the fluffy love at the minute, because I wanted to wrap up Mal's storyline. She's going to be distinctly absent for a while, and Dom will start to phase out from here, because I want to keep as much of the characteristics as possible in this AU, and when watching the film, I was struck with how little Dom seemed to care for anyone's feelings or lives, as long as he was happy, or could get home to his kids, and Mal was just vindictive. So I'm mainly going to concentrate on Arthur/Eames from here, with Yusuf and Ariadne playing a role every now and again.**

**Please review, and I might be tempted to rush my work so I can upload again ;)**


	18. When It's Time

**Sorry about the delay. I've been a little off recently, and I didn't want it to reflect in the chapter. I'm starting to feel a little happier now, and hope that the chapter meets expectations. It's almost 5am here, so I'm going to upload and then get some much needed sleep. Also, the chapter title comes from my current favourite song, When It's Time, by Green Day.**

* * *

**Chapter Seventeen: When It's Time**

The weekend passed, and Arthur started back at college. Eames had offered to sit in with him, and pretend to be a student, but Arthur had refused, pointing out that Saito would recognise him instantly. He gave Eames a copy of his dorm key, and said he could come and go as he pleased, but to let Arthur know if he was going out. For the first week, Eames alternated between visiting Yusuf to help him with his experiments, and trying to work out who had set him up in North Korea and Russia.

For the first three days of the term, Arthur had come home worried. Mal had been absent, as they'd expected, but Dom had been off too, and wasn't picking up his phone. On Thursday, Arthur entered Saito's classroom to find them both sitting in their usual seat. He dashed over to them, closely followed by Ariadne.

"How are you both?" He asked, quietly, as he dropped into his usual chair. Dom smiled at him, and Arthur couldn't hide his wince at the dark circles under his eyes.

"Jesus, Dom." He bit his lip. Dom waved him off, smiling.

"Things are starting to pick up. The doctors have changed her pills again and are monitoring her moods. The problem is that Mal's having trouble adjusting to people and the doctors think it's for the best if she keeps her distance from everyone for a while."

While it stung slightly that after nearly three years of friendship, Arthur was included with the 'everyone', he completely understood that Mal would be feeling completely out of sorts, questioning everything about herself, and it would be hard enough for her to control her feelings about Dom; she would need time to adjust. Arthur's eyes travelled over to meet Mal's and he nodded at her, showing his acceptance. She managed a weak smile, before Ariadne sat down, blocking Arthur's view.

"Ari, Arthur," Dom said quietly. "I'm still going to be around, but I'll need to be with Mal a lot more than usual, so, about movie night…"

"Don't worry about it." Ariadne said, kindly. "Until Mal is feeling herself, we'll temporarily call it off."

Dom looked relieved and nodded. He leaned over to whisper to Mal, and Ariadne took the opportunity to whisper to Arthur.

"We were running out of movies anyway. Maybe we could do something else, like a games night or we can always alternate with films. Just the four of us for tonight, until Mal feels better."

Arthur nodded, contemplatively, but any reply was quashed as Saito entered the room and silence fell.

When the lecture ended, Arthur managed to catch Dom before he left with Mal. He invited Dom for a drink the next day, reminding him that he'd already agreed to it, but recognising that after that he would need to focus on Mal. Dom agreed, uneasily. He didn't want to leave Mal alone, but he was sure that Stephen or Marie, her mother, would look after her while he was with Arthur. They'd already told him he was doing more than he should be to help Mal.

After Arthur's lectures had finished for the day, Arthur dashed home as quickly as he could. While Eames had been in LA for a week, Arthur still felt like he'd imagined it all, and he appreciated the fact that the thief might have to leave at any moment, and while he refused to skip class, Arthur wanted to spend as much time with Eames as he could. Unlocking the door, he slung his bag to one side.

"Eames?" He called.

"In here!" Came the reply. Arthur headed to the kitchen to see what Eames was upto. He opened the door and a delicious smell met his nostrils.

"What is _that_?" He breathed. Eames turned around and grinned, rubbing flour off his cheek.

"Chicken parmesan. I thought you'd be hungry after college." He explained. "I even made dessert. Cheesecake, of course."

Arthur grinned at him. "Of course. Thank you, Eames."

"It was no trouble, darling, honestly."

They sat down and Eames served their meal. He enquired as to how Arthur's classes had gone, and in turn, Arthur asked how Eames had spent his day. It was easy. Arthur reflected how a friendship hadn't come this easily to him since Dom; even he and Ariadne had been a little uncomfortable at first, but being friends with Eames came as naturally to him as breathing.

"We've been invited to Ari's tonight. For a new thing. Games night I think she said. Mal and Dom aren't coming, but I said we'd go for that drink with Dom tomorrow night, if that's cool with you." Arthur paused, lowering his fork. "Eames, you don't have to do anything you don't want to. I would never hold it against you if you never wanted to see him again."

Eames smiled. "Arthur, seriously, stop worrying. What kind of person would I be if I held a mental illness against your friends? We'll go for a drink with Dom tomorrow, and hopefully he'll see that I'm not a bad influence on you and he'll lay off you for a while."

Arthur nodded. He wanted Dom to like Eames a lot. Dom was his oldest friend, and Eames was his … well, friend perhaps wasn't the right word, but it was the only word he could use.

When they were finished eating, Arthur washed the dishes while Eames boxed up his cheesecake. They'd decided to take dessert over to Ariadne's room and share it out. Arthur's reasoning was that if the cheesecake was as good as the dinner, it deserved to be shared with the world.

As it turned out, no games actually took place that evening. They all sat in front of the TV, talking and learning new things about it each other. Ariadne seemed to be asking Eames a lot of questions, and Arthur was slightly peeved. Surely Eames had proved that he was a trustworthy person? Eames seemed to have no issue with anything Ariadne asked, although his posture was rigid and stiff. Arthur assumed it was discomfort at the inquisition he was getting.

"Ari, surely Eames has proved that he can be trusted?" Arthur spoke up eventually. Eames held up his hand to stop him.

"No, Arthur. She doesn't know me as well as you do. Heaven knows, I don't trust her."

Ariadne nodded, slowly. "You're wrong, of course. I do trust you, I'm just trying to learn the boundaries."

Eames smiled at her. "Understandable, of course. And I mean no offence when I say I don't trust you. But in my line of work, it's best to be slow to trust."

"And quick to love?" Yusuf grinned. Eames threw a returning grin in his direction. Ariadne looked thoughtful.

"Have you ever been in love, Eames?" Ariadne asked. "Please, don't answer if I'm prying."

Eames turned to her, his eyes intense. "Just once." He said, quietly, and nobody dared to ask him anything else on the subject.

"When did you start to trust me?" Arthur asked, curiously. "Can you pinpoint it roughly?"

Eames turned to him, his expression soft and warm. He inclined his head. "I know exactly when, darling. Can you remember when I had to go to Florence?" At Arthur's nod, he continued. "You said you'd e-mail me every day, even though I couldn't reply. That first day, you sent one, when you were upset." He paused, glancing between Yusuf and Ariadne. He didn't know if Arthur would want him to share the details of the e-mail.

Arthur groaned. "God, I babbled like a complete fool in that e-mail. What the hell did you manage to get out of that to make you trust me?"

"_And for me, t__hings aren't always in black and white where people are. People you trust, who you think you know, and then there are shades of gray you never even dreamed of._" Eames quoted. "When you told me that, I felt like for the first time in years, that somebody actually saw things the same way I did."

Arthur nodded, swallowing. It wasn't a magical moment between them, just an understanding, but Ariadne's eyes shone

"Eames, could you give me a hand cutting this amazing looking cheesecake you brought?" Ariadne asked, casually. The thief glanced at her sharply, and nodded. He recognised the ploy so Ariadne could talk to him alone and played along. Scrambling to his feet, he followed her to the kitchen. She reached for the plates, and Eames unboxed the cake.

"You wanted to talk to me?" He asked, keeping his tone conversational as he reached for a knife.

Ariadne smiled. "Very astute. It's about Arthur."

Eames bit back a smile. "What else? What about him?"

To his surprise, Ariadne reached out and squeezed Eames' shoulder affectionately. "Arthur might not have understood that look, but I did. I've known for a long time you have feelings for him." She kept her voice low. "Did you know; I didn't believe you were any good for him until that day you said you wanted nothing more to do with him? I know you didn't tell Arthur why, and I know it's because you thought he was straight."

She paused, raising her eyebrows defiantly. Eames neither confirmed nor denied her insinuations, an waited for her to continue. "And I also know I don't need to warn you of what will happen if you ever hurt him. I'm pretty sure I can imagine what you're capable of, but know that there will be nowhere you can hide from me if you're responsible for any more hurt in his life." Her tone was icy, and Eames believed she was perfectly capable of carrying out her threat. While he wasn't scared, he respected that Ariadne needed to have this talk with him. He offered her his hand, genuinely. Surprised, she smiled and took it, shaking firmly. Without another word, they finished cutting up the cake and carried a piece in for Yusuf and Arthur.

Later that night, Eames begged use of Arthur's laptop, explaining that he needed to search for evidence of Cobol's leak before the trail went completely cold. While his own skill was not on par with Arthur's, Eames was not without considerable talent at using a computer, and was fairly good at hacking into other computers.

He worked steadily for nearly two hours before he found what he was looking for. A deleted e-mail in the museum curator's inbox which proved that there had been a tip off. He quickly copied the e-mail to a memory stick and began running a trace to see if he could work out the source of the e-mail. While the trace was in progress, Eames glanced over at Arthur, who was working on his architecture blueprints. He knew Arthur had very little work to do on paradoxical architecture, and was grateful that Arthur was silently giving Eames his space to work.

When the trace came back, Eames was both angry and pleased to see that the e-mail had originally been sent from a computer in Cobol's headquarters in London. Unfortunately, he couldn't work out who had been using the computer at the time that it had been sent. Without that proof, there was nothing he could do to clear his name. Even if he flew to North Korea to get the vase, his life was still in jeopardy for the failure and prolonged risk of exposure. Eames was a fugitive until he could find out who was handing out information.

He sighed, and shut down the laptop. There was nothing else he could do tonight, and while he recognised that sleeping on it wouldn't solve his dilemma, to continue working would be of no use to him. Moving over to the sofa, he settled down beside Arthur, wearily, but drawing strength from the fondness he felt for the American.

* * *

The next day passed quickly. Arthur didn't have class, so they decided to go bowling, much to Eames' delight. He wasn't terrible at bowling, but he wasn't particularly good at it either, yet he still very much enjoyed the experience. Arthur was brilliant at it, but Eames drew amusement from the fact that no matter what Arthur wore, the compulsory footwear looked ridiculous on him.

When the evening came, they set out to meet Dom at a bar down the street from the library. Eames had ID and Arthur was still refusing to drink, so they had no issues there. Dom had turned twenty-one the previous month. Arriving in the bar, Eames glanced around, and spotted Dom sitting in the corner. They moved over to join him swiftly.

"Hey." He greeted quietly. He still had rings around his eyes, but they were shining. Evidently Mal was doing better. Arthur and Eames returned the greeting before Arthur moved to order a soda, leaving Dom and Eames to talk.

"I'm sorry about what happened; I jumped to conclusions when I don't know you at all." Dom began. Eames waved him off.

"We've been through his already. You don't know me from Adam, in your position I would have believed her too. It's all in the past now. You just need to concentrate on Mal getting better, and to do that, you need to trust that Arthur will be safe with me, and that I won't hurt him, both of which I can guarantee you."

Dom nodded. "That's fair enough, but you understand that I have to be wary?"

Eames grinned. "I'd be worried if you weren't, mate."

Arthur returned, and Eames shot off to buy his own drink, opting for a beer. He didn't want to be drunk around Arthur and risk making a fool of himself, unless Arthur was drinking too. When he returned, he sat at the table next to his friend, winking at him.

A presence behind him cause Arthur to freeze, and Dom's eyes narrowed furiously.

"Your taste has gone rapidly downhill, Arthur." Nash sniffed. Eames spun around to stare at the stranger.

"Excuse me? Are you talking about me, mate?" He frowned. "What's your problem?"

Nash ignored him. "You blew me off for _him_?" He continued disbelievingly. "After everything we had together, and I made one mistake, and you won't take me back, because you'd rather havethis loser?"

Realisation dawned, and Eames eyes widened perceptively, before narrowing.

"Nash." He breathed.

Nash heard him and grinned. "Told you about me, has he? I wouldn't believe a word he says if I were you; just a word of warning. Had everyone going with this act of his, terrified to speak to anyone new, and yet he seems to be managing fine with you." He sneered. "What was it, Arthur? Some sort of sob story so you could play the victim? A pity ploy so he would fuck you?"

Dom flung himself across the table at Nash, fist drawn back, but Eames got there first. Leaping up, he grabbed Nash by the collar and his fist met his nose with such force, Nash's head snapped back and blood flowed freely from his nostrils. Arthur moved to hold Dom back, but made no effort to stop Eames. Two-on-one odds would never sit well with him, but Nash deserved everything Eames was doing. He glanced around the bar, and everyone was staring, but nobody attempted to stop Eames from causing Nash severe injuries. Arthur assumed they'd all heard what had transpired and felt his ex-boyfriend deserved what he got. Purple bruises were starting to form over Nash's bloody face and his eye was swollen. Wincing, Arthur placed a hand on Eames' arm.

"That's enough, Eames." He said quietly. Eames unclenched his fist and lowered it, slowly releasing his grip on Nash, who scrambled away, whimpering. The bar door slammed shut after him as he ran out. The bar was deathly silent.

"Let's go." Arthur said awkwardly.

Eames threw a hundred dollar bill on the counter as they left. "For the inconvenience. Have a drink on me." He told the bartender, who nodded solemnly.

In the street, there was no sign of Nash. They paused, awkwardly.

"I better head home." Dom bit his lip. "I promised Mal I wouldn't be too long. Eames, can I have a word with you?"

"I'll see you at home." Arthur said quietly, and walked off. Eames felt conflicted between Arthur's used of the word home, and how obviously lost in thought the American was. While he wished he could have done more damage to Nash, maybe remove a few teeth; he should never have lost control in front of Arthur. He wasn't an angry person per se, but having seen first-hand what Nash's actions had done to Arthur, he felt the weasel deserved all he got. On top of that, he'd blown his only chance at gaining Dom's approval. Whether Dom had been about to strike the weasel himself or not, Eames was a trained fighter and had probably broken Nash's nose. Dom couldn't have done that much damage, and now he would never trust Eames around Arthur.

"Eames?" Dom began. "While I can't say I approve of violence, I would have done the same thing myself. Lukas Nash has had that coming for a long time, and you only saw half of what he did to Arthur." He paused. "But it's not what you did. It's the fact that you did it to defend Arthur. You didn't even think about it; you saw that he was hurt and did what needed to be done. I can't say that we'll ever be friends, because too much has been said and done. But I've got no doubt that Arthur is in good hands with you."

He offered his hand, and Eames took it uncertainly, both amazed and unbelieving. He thanked Dom warmly, and they separated. Heading home, Eames knocked, uncertain whether or not to use his key. Arthur opened the door a crack, peering to see who it was. When he saw Eames, he opened it wider.

"Have you lost your key?" He asked, frowning. "What did Dom want?"

Eames smiled, realising that once again, Arthur's feelings towards him hadn't changed, and that he hadn't lost a modicum of respect where the American was concerned.

"No, darling, it's in my pocket somewhere." He avoided the subject of Dom. There was another subject he needed to broach with Arthur. "Darling, I might have to leave soon."

Arthur's head snapped up. "Why? Did you sort things with Cobol?"

Eames shook his head. "No. I need to find somewhere to settle down permanently. I need to take a new name, a new identity, somewhere far from London."

Arthur didn't even hesitate. "What's wrong with here? You can stay with me as long as you need to."

Eames' smile was blinding. "For as long as you'll have me, darling."

Arthur grinned in return, overjoyed that Eames would be a permanent fixture. "Can I ask why? Couldn't you find proof of a leak?"

"No, I found the proof." He corrected. "I traced an e-mail back to Cobol headquarters, but I can't find out who used the computer."

Arthur frowned. He could offer to help Eames, knowing that if he was successful, Eames would leave and go back to his dangerous lifestyle, and it would be a long time before Arthur saw him again, or he could avoid the subject and selfishly keep Eames around. While he was sorely tempted by the latter option, he didn't really consider it. He would always do what was right for Eames, not for himself.

Kneeling in front of the DVD, Arthur reached for a blank DVD that he'd burnt months ago. He slipped it into the DVD player.

"Eames? I need to show you something, and then I want you to hear me out before you speak, okay?"

Eames nodded, confused, but willing. He settled down in front of the DVD. Arthur pressed play. Eames glanced at the screen and froze, recognising the location as the museum in Florence that he'd stolen a vase from near the beginning of his friendship with Arthur. It was from a security camera, and the date was… shit. He stared at the screen, watching a dark figure effortlessly remove the vase from its security casing without setting off the alarm, before sliding it into his bag, and hopping out the window, all in under ten seconds. Arthur paused the DVD.

"Where did you get that?" Eames asked sharply. His mind was racing – was _Arthur_ Cobol's leak? Was their whole friendship a ploy? He shook away those thoughts, refusing to believe it. Arthur wouldn't do that to him.

"I was curious." Arthur admitted. "When you told me what you did. It was easy to get hold of. Incidentally, I wiped their copy of that footage." He added.

"But… how? Why?" Eames said, hoarsely. He was still at sea.

"It's what I do, for Jacques." Arthur confessed. "If it exists on a computer, I can find it. There's a reason I showed you – if you'll let me, I can find out where your leak is coming from."

Eames' grey eyes met Arthur's brown ones, thoughtful, calculating against soft, honest, offering. Finally, Eames nodded, relaxing. Arthur had his complete trust, and if it turned out to be misplaced, Eames didn't think he would regret one second.

Arthur reached for the laptop, and invited Eames to sit next to him. When Eames sat down, stiffly, Arthur took his hand, drawing the thief's attention.

"I can understand you're wary. I'll show you everything I'm doing every step of the way, and you can tell me if you think I'm hiding something. I want to help you, Eames."

Eames relaxed and nodded, offering a smile. "I'm sorry, Arthur. That was just a shock to see. Please, I'd be grateful for your help."

Arthur got straight down to business, starting from scratch and finding the e-mail himself. Running his own, more detailed trace, he followed Eames' steps back to the computer at Cobol's base, but he had a time and date. Using the co-ordinates from the e-mails source, Arthur managed to hack into Cobol's security office, and view their security footage, explaining to Eames what he was doing every step of the way. He used the CCTV to freeze an image of the leak.

"Recognise him?" He asked Eames, who shook his head. He hadn't expected to – it was a private business. Whoever sold him out had been selling the information; the betrayal wasn't personal.

Arthur frowned and began to tap into the phone line, listening in to one of the leak's phone calls in an attempt to identify the accent. Once he had detected that the leak was English, Arthur ran the freeze frame of his face through the official British criminal database, which was remarkable different to that of the FBI. It matched up instantly.

"Adam Jones, 26, known gambling addictions, wanted in relation to a pub brawl." Arthur read aloud. "Do you want to send this to Cobol?"

Eames stopped him. "No. There's something I need to do first, and I'm going to need your help."

"Anything." Arthur promised.

* * *

The next night, Eames had left LA, and was back in North Korea. Sending the proof to Cobol was useless unless he had the vase too. He had double checked the security system again for the museum, and was certain of the floor plan, just to make sure that nothing could go wrong. Nobody would be waiting for him this time, and even if they were, he had an ace in the hole.

He crept through the hallway, concealed in the shadows, making his way to where he knew the vase was kept. Checking the coast was clear, he darted over to the security case and disabled the alarm. He reached for the vase, when a voice hissed in his ear.

"On your left, _hide_!"

Eames melted back into the shadows, concealing himself behind a curtain for good measure. A security guard flashed a torch around the end of the corridor, and began moving closer. Eames stepped out from behind the curtain, his hand starting to withdraw a metal object from his belt.

"There's a vent behind you, near the floor." Arthur hissed into his microphone, watching the whole thing from his laptop in LA. It had been Eames' idea that he wear an earpiece, having had too many close calls recently, he wanted to make sure that there were few risks here.

Eames released the weapon and with a flash of silver, it slid back into his belt. He dropped and slid into the vent silently, holding his breath. When the security guard moved away again, Eames sighed in relief. He slid back out of the vent and grabbed the vase.

"That vent will take you out near the side gate, if you hurry, it's clear. The patrolling guard is at least a minute away."

Eames moved quickly, not stopping until he was well away from the museum, and on his way to the airport. He ripped out his earpiece and pressed his phone to his ear. It was extremely frustrating, not being able to talk back.

"Hello?" Arthur picked up immediately.

"Darling," Eames gasped, dizzy from the adrenaline.

He could practically hear the smile in Arthur's voice. "Well done, Eames."

"It was all thanks to you, darling." He paused. "The security tapes?"

"Looped." Arthur promised.

Eames grinned, then a thought struck him. "Darling, my belt… its knockout gas, I promise you. Cobol does insist that I carry a gun, but I refuse every time. I've never had to take a life yet, and I hope I never do."

"That's quite reassuring, but I never doubted you for a second." Arthur promised. "Are you coming back to LA, or should I forward you the proof?"

"I'm coming back." Eames smiled. "I may have to leave again quite soon, but I'm coming back first. I'll see you tomorrow."

He hung up and pocketed his phone, his hand shaking. The adrenaline was beginning to wear off, but Eames had never felt its effects as strongly as he did then. A small voice told him that it was the rush of working with Arthur; that it was the excitement of doing the job he loved, with the man he loved. He pushed such a thought out of his head and concentrated on steadying his nerves. This was no life for Arthur.

* * *

Eames got off the plane, grinning when he realised Arthur had been waiting for him. Instantly, Arthur had pulled Eames into a hug, which the latter returned cheerfully. Arthur had already sent the necessary proof to Cobol, along with a contact e-mail address which was untraceable, in case they decided to double cross Eames. The thief was touched by Arthur's security measures, implemented specifically for his safety, but he knew Cobol wouldn't double cross him. It wasn't how they worked.

"Darling." He breathed into Arthur's hair, his eyes closed. He had the overwhelming urge to pull Arthur as close to him as possible and never let go, but he suppressed it.

"Well, well, well, Mr Eames, it has been a long time." An amused voice spoke over the embrace. Eames recognised it and his eyes flew open, pulling back from the hug.

"Saito!" He grinned, amazed, shaking his old professor's hand. "Good to see you again."

"Likewise, Mr Eames. I've heard a few things about you from Mr Levine." He grinned down at Arthur. "I trust you are well?"

"Never better." Eames grinned. "I suppose I ought to thank you, your assignment led me to one of the best friends I've ever had."

Arthur smiled at him, shyly, and nodded.

Saito smiled enigmatically. "Indeed. I shall leave you to your socialising then." He walked away. "Oh, and Mr Levine!" He called back. Arthur turned.

"I trust you will rethink your earlier reservations on this year's assignment?" He walked away chuckling, as Arthur nodded.

"Don't ask." Arthur waved off Eames' questions as they left the airport to head home. When they got back to Arthur's dorm, the first thing he did was check his e-mails. There was a reply from Cobol, with an attachment. Warily, Arthur opened it, waving Eames over. It was a newspaper article, informing them of the suicide of Adam Jones. They both fell silent, knowing that it had been the complete opposite of suicide. Eames had known that Jones would die when Cobol found out, but it didn't make the knowledge any easier.

The e-mail enclosed contained three lines.

_**Dusseldorf tomorrow. Heinrich Guttman. Picasso painting.**_

_**We trust you have the vase.**_

_**Don't screw up again.**_

Arthur was furious that Cobol were sending Eames away again so soon and had no concern at all for his well-being. Understanding the way Cobol worked, Eames shrugged it off, choosing to focus on the knowledge that tonight would be his last night with Arthur. He pointed that out to the American, who stopped cursing Cobol and looked sheepish.

"What do you want to do?" He asked?

Eames smiled. "Darling, there's been so much going on recently, that all I want is to have a quiet night in."

The duo agreed to have a night in with a movie. Eames chose Ocean's Eleven from Arthur's collection, and they chuckled at how similarly they had acted the day before. Near the end of the film, Arthur shifted so he was resting his head in Eames' lap, and Eames was humming as he stroked Arthur's hair. He was suddenly struck by the domesticity of it all, and the strength of his feelings for Arthur.

"Arthur?"

"Hmm?

"You know how Ariadne asked if I'd ever been in love before?"

"Mm-hmm."

"Only once, darling. And I didn't know the feeling until quite recently. You see, darling, I've fallen in love with you."

Eames held his breath, nervously. When Arthur didn't reply, he glanced down to see Arthur had fallen asleep. He sighed, and pressed a brief kiss to Arthur's forehead. Maybe that was a sign that Arthur wasn't meant to know how he felt. Heaven knows, there could be no future for them. People like Eames didn't get happy endings.

* * *

**Hope you liked it! Next chapter Eames will be leaving LA, but I can't keep them apart for too long. Please review, they make me smile and smiley me writes fluffy chapters :D**


	19. Why Is The Silence So Loud?

**Sorry about the delay to upload this chapter, I've been working on a Christmas oneshot for the AE Holiday Bang on tumblr, called Don't Thank Me Yet (It's Christmas), and I've eventually finished and uploaded it, so I can start working on La Vie En Rose again! I'll post my tumblr link at the bottom of this fic in case you want to check out my blog. **

**A random snippet of info for you, when trying to think of a chapter title, I set my music player on shuffle and decided to pick a line from the first song that played. What actually played was 'Time' by Hans Zimmer, which was pretty ironic and yet so cool!**

* * *

**Chapter Eighteen: Why Is The Silence So Loud?**

The next morning, Arthur woke to find himself still in Eames' arms. He shifted slightly, his legs stiff and cramped. The thief's eyes flew open instantly at the movement and Arthur bit his lip, feeling guilty that he'd woken Eames up after what had been a bad night's sleep for both of them.

"Sorry." He murmured, scrambling up and stretching, flexing his shoulders to loosen them. Eames stood too, rolling his neck and wincing.

"Remind me never to sleep on your sofa again, darling." Eames groaned. "What time is it?"

Arthur checked his watch. "Almost ten. What time is your flight?"

Eames had booked his flight just after he'd received the e-mail from Cobol. It left at four pm, so they had to leave fairly soon.

"Want me to see if Ari will drive us?" Arthur offered. "I'm sure she wouldn't mind."

Eames nodded; driving meant they could leave later and he would have more time with Arthur. His chest was remarkable heavy, knowing that he would have to say goodbye to Arthur in a few hours, not knowing when he would be able to see him again. On top of that, telling the American how he felt hadn't gone to plan, when Arthur had fallen asleep through Eames' confession. After sleeping on it, Eames decided that telling Arthur how he felt was pointless. It was for his own protection, if nothing else. It simply wasn't safe for Eames to care about someone; Cobol would use that connection. No, Eames couldn't have both. It was his job, or Arthur.

In retrospect, they hadn't even known each other a year. Eames had been working for Cobol for nearly four years. Regardless of the fact that he was in love with Arthur, to the point where it was difficult to breathe sometimes, Eames would concentrate on his job first and foremost. If that wasn't motivation enough; Eames knew that there was no walking away from Cobol alive.

Ariadne agreed, and Eames packed up his belongings. Arthur helped him by refolding neatly all the shirts that Eames was hastily stuffing into the holdall. When he realised what Arthur was doing, he stopped, looking up at his friend, sheepishly.

"Sorry, darling." Eames smiled, apologetically, taking extra care to fold his clothes neatly. When Ariadne pulled up outside to take them to the airport, Eames had finished packing and had even found the time to make them lunch. Dropping his holdall into the backseat, he let Arthur ride shotgun, but leaned forward as far as his seatbelt would allow so he could join in the conversation.

"Did you have a good time in Los Angeles, Eames?" Ariadne inquired, keeping her eyes on the road.

Eames nodded. "Indeed I did, it was a very interesting experience."

She raised an eyebrow in the rear-view mirror at him. "Does that mean you'll be coming back to visit us again?"

Eames smiled, enigmatically. "That remains to be seen."

When they pulled up in the airport parking lot, Ariadne, to everyone's surprise, gave Eames a hug and told him he was welcome to visit her whenever he liked.

"You should add me on Skype, if you want to, although I'm almost always with Yusuf anyway." She smiled. "You're a good guy, Eames, and I like you. Don't be a stranger."

She waved Arthur off, informing him that she would be waiting with the car, and to take as long as he liked. Arthur waited to one side as Eames checked in. Everything seemed a bit of a blur. When the thief came back over, Arthur gave him a tight smile. Eames recognised that Arthur was just trying to hide his feelings, and that it wasn't a slight towards him.

They stood, staring at each other, solemn and intense. Neither of them knew where to even begin to say goodbye to the other.

"I should go." Eames muttered. "Ariadne's waiting for you."

"Yeah. You need to get through security." Arthur mumbled, distantly, but he still didn't make an attempt to move. Eventually, Eames sighed and reached out for Arthur, enveloping him in a warm hug. Arthur buried his nose in Eames' neck, inhaling deeply, trying to commit the smell of the Brit to memory.

"I'll call you as soon as I get back from Germany, I promise." Eames murmured into his friend's ear.

"You'd better." Arthur replied as he reluctantly withdrew from the embrace. "I mean it, Eames. I'll only worry if you don't."

"On my word of honour, darling." He paused, and took Arthur's hand. "Arthur, I…thank you. For everything. Letting me stay with you, helping me with Cobol. I can never repay you."

Arthur blushed, furiously, the tips of his ears turning red. "Don't be silly, Eames. You're one of my best friends and I like to think you'd do the same for me."

"Anytime, darling," Eames said seriously. "Although I hope I never have to hide you under similar circumstances."

He paused and checked the time. "I have to go. Promise me you'll take care of yourself."

Arthur nodded, feeling a lump rise in his throat. "You too."

Eames grinned, weakly. "Don't I always?" With great effort, Eames turned to leave, picking up his holdall. Arthur watched him take a few steps, before he called out after him.

"Eames?"

Eames paused, and Arthur moved swiftly up to him. "This visit. I … was it just because you needed somewhere to hide? Will I see you again?"

Eames blinked, and stroked Arthur's cheek, affectionately. "Darling, as if I could ever stay away. I'll be back as soon as I can."

He leaned over and brushed his lips against Arthur's cheek. With a final wink, Eames headed up the escalators towards the departure lounge, and was gone. Arthur raised his hand to his cheek, pressing his fingertips to the spot where the burn of Eames' stubble still lingered. Sad, but understanding, he headed back to the car to find Ariadne.

She was waiting for him, patiently, offering him a small smile and a squeeze of the hand when he slid into the car.

"What did he say?" Ariadne asked.

Arthur shrugged. "He thanked me for letting him stay and said he'd be back as soon as he could." He told her.

Ariadne looked disappointed. "Nothing else?" She pressed.

Arthur frowned. "No, what else was there to say?"

"Oh, I thought he might have asked you to visit him." Ariadne lied. "You know, it'll be strange without him. I know he wasn't here long, but he had that sort of presence, where he just slotted right in, like he'd always been here. I was used to having him around."

Arthur nodded, absently, but he understood what she meant. For the last two weeks, Arthur's life had revolved around Eames; he'd grown so used to living with someone else that he hadn't realised how empty his dorm was before Eames had arrived. The thought that he would now have to go back to that emptiness made Arthur sick to his stomach.

When Ariadne dropped him off, Arthur thanked her and arranged to meet her for a coffee before class the next day. Opening his door, Arthur swallowed hard, and entered the dorm. It was like all the homeliness had been sucked out of it, leaving only a cold shell. Sighing, Arthur reached for his laptop. With Eames' arrival, he'd cut seriously back on the amount of work he took from Jacques, and he needed to finish it. He worked steadily all day, working through report after report without stopping to take a break.

When Arthur eventually glanced up from his screen, it was dark, and quite late. He frowned, realising he was famished. Opening his mouth to ask Eames what he wanted for dinner, he paused. Oh. Right. Arthur moved to the kitchen and opened his fridge for the first time in nearly two weeks, since Eames had taken care of the cooking. He frowned, spotting a dish that he hadn't put there. As he pulled it out to take a look, a note fluttered to the floor. Arthur bent down to retrieve it, reading the familiar scrawl quickly.

_**Darling,**_

_**I can't even begin to thank you for everything you've done for me, but I hope this is a good enough to start.**_

_**Do remember to share it with Yusuf and Ariadne.**_

_**Yours,**_

_**Eames**_

Arthur glanced at the dish to find that Eames had made him another cheesecake, clearly remembering that Arthur had been partial to the first.

To Arthur's horror, he felt tears begin to prick his eyes. He forced them away and pushed the dish back into his fridge, unwilling to cut into the cake that Eames had clearly put a lot of effort in to. He shut the door, and reached for the bread bin, too tired to make anything complex. Besides, toast was his favourite food.

When he'd eaten, Arthur fired off an e-mail to Jacques, enclosing everything he'd done that evening. After that, he closed the lid and moved to the bathroom to get ready for bed. He showered and brushed his teeth, before entering his bedroom. Sliding between the sheets, Arthur closed his eyes and tried to force himself to go to sleep.

Three hours later, he realised that sleep was evading him, and got up. Barefoot, he padded over to the room that Eames had utilised during his stay. It was quiet, but there was a lingering presence of the Brit that brought instant relief to Arthur. He slid into the bed and inhaled deeply, the scent of Eames infused deep into the pillows and sheets that Arthur had thankfully forgotten to change. With the comforting smell of Eames around him, Arthur drifted off to sleep instantly.

Two days later, Arthur's fingers were twitching as he repressed the urge to check up on Eames. He'd read the name on the e-mail Eames had received from Cobol, and the small amount of background reading he'd allowed himself had showed that Heinrich Guttman was disgustingly rich and had a huge collection of priceless artwork, both paintings and sculptures. He owned a variety of Picasso paintings, but, since Arthur didn't know which of them Eames was to steal, or when the Brit would be striking, he couldn't watch the security footage of the theft until after Eames returned.

Arthur didn't want to interfere with Eames' job, but the thrill he'd felt when he'd helped Eames steal the Ming vase from North Korea was ever present. He'd never felt so alive, yet so terrified. He wanted to help out again, but he knew that Eames would never allow it, and he wouldn't get involved without Eames' approval.

Arthur sighed and switched on his laptop. Skype automatically signed in, and Arthur minimised it, knowing that Ariadne was at work, and Yusuf was up to his elbows in hydrochloric acid. So when a chime sounded, informing Arthur that he had a new message, he opened it, frowning.

**Eames: Hello, darling :)**

**Arthur: Eames! When did you get back?**

**Eames: About an hour ago, darling. I thought I'd see if you were online. Video call?**

Arthur could hardly contain his joy that Eames was back. He sent the video call request and waited eagerly for it to connect. Eames' face came into view, and Arthur sighed, happily. There was something about Eames' beautiful eyes, and constant grin that he could never get enough of.

"Darling, so good to see you again." Eames grinned. Arthur couldn't repress his own grin in return.

"You too. How were things in Germany?" Arthur asked.

"Good. Easiest job I've had in a while." He shrugged. "In and out straight away."

Arthur frowned. "But you hadn't planned anything before you got there. Surely you didn't just rush in?"

Eames laughed, shaking his head. "Of course not, darling. I might have quite your finesse with a computer, but I'm not entirely useless. I did all my planning the first night, and then completed the job yesterday."

Arthur nodded, knowing that Eames wouldn't rush into a job unprepared. He offered to wipe or loop the security footage, but Eames assured him that Cobol would take care of it.

"You should have seen it, Arthur. He had barbed wire around his fence so I had to jump from the tree, _over _the wall and try not to break my ankle when I landed. It was brilliant."

Arthur smiled, fondly. "What are you going to do when you're too old to make jumps like that?"

It wasn't a criticism; Arthur was genuinely curious, and Eames could see that, so he didn't take offence.

"I'll be rich enough to retire by then, and, can I just point out that I'm only twenty-two, darling. I'm not at the age of retirement _just_ yet." He laughed.

Arthur was struck by a sudden thought. He frowned. "You know, Eames, we've been talking for about eight or nine months now, right? You realise I don't actually know when your birthday is? Did I miss it?"

Eames paused. "It's in April. The seventeenth. It never even crossed my mind that I don't know your birthday. When's yours?"

"September third." Arthur told him. Correctly interpreting Eames' look of dismay, Arthur soothed him. "I didn't mention it because I was working late that night; we never actually spoke at all on my birthday."

Seeing Eames looked slightly mollified, Arthur returned his attention to the fact that it was Eames' birthday soon. He would have to try and find him a present. Making a mental note to talk to Yusuf, he returned his attention to the conversation he was having, laughing and joking with Eames.

"I found your cheesecake." Arthur grinned. "I didn't like the idea of sharing though." He pouted.

Eames chuckled. "I wouldn't like to be you when Ariadne finds out."

Arthur pulled a face. "Nah, I gave her half to share with Yusuf. I kept the other half though." He grinned. "Thanks."

Eames looked at the camera, kindly. "Don't mention it, darling. You've done a lot more for me than a simple cake could ever repay."

There was a moment of silence, and Arthur was reminded once again by how much he missed Eames being around. He didn't mention his feelings, not wanting to come across a little strong. It turns out, he didn't need to.

"You know, darling, it's only been two days, but it's unreal how much I miss you." Eames murmured, softly.

Arthur blushed furiously. "I miss you too. Did you mean it? About coming back?"

"I promise." Eames told him, firmly. He paused. "If you wanted to, you could come here too."

Arthur looked up. "I can? I didn't think that was possible, with Cobol, and you're schedule isn't exactly set in stone. I could book something, and then you could leave for a job."

Eames shook his head. "It doesn't usually work like that, this was just because I screwed up, so they threw me in at the deep end. Normally, I spend a lot more time researching before I go, so if I was close to a job, I would just hold off on the research." He explained.

Arthur fell silent, considering. "Are you serious? You don't have to humour me, I _will _understand if it's impossible."

Eames smiled. "Darling, I want you to. I'd love to show you around London. Your hometown tells so much about you, and I want you to have the same experience."

Arthur didn't even hesitate. "One minute." He said, reaching for a pencil. He opened a browser and began typing furiously. Reaching for a pencil, he began scribbling down figures.

"Alright." He agreed, when he'd finished. "I can afford to come, as long as your roommate doesn't mind me staying with you. How long are we talking?"

"How long can you afford to be here for? I'm fine with whatever, and Rob will be cool about it too. When are you coming? During the summer?"

Arthur paused. "Sure." He hesitated. "What about Easter? I get a month break from college, and if I can get my final assignment done before that, I could stay for a couple of weeks."

"And my birthday is near Easter." Eames said, excitedly. "We could time it so that you'd be around for my birthday! Darling! Book it now!"

Arthur shook his head, regretfully. "I can't. It'll have to be last minute; I need to know that my assignment is going to be finished before I commit to anything. It's my last year; I don't get another shot at this assignment."

Eames nodded, understand. "I know, darling, don't worry about it. Oh, but there is so much I want to show you when you're here! We could see a show in the West End! It's no Broadway, but it's still a fantastic experience… and then there's Oxford Street, but it's not as good as Fifth Avenue…"

Arthur listened to Eames babble for a moment, amusedly, before he interrupted. "Eames, you're comparing London to New York City. I've never even _been_ to New York."

Eames paused. "You haven't? It's great. But still, England isn't as good as America is, it's small but it's home and I don't want you to hate it."

"Eames!" Arthur raised his voice to get the thief's attention. "I'm sure I'll love it in England. Stop worrying, you're babbling."

Eames smiled, relaxing. "Sorry, darling. It's just my home, and a big part of me. I really want you to like it."

"All the more reason why I'll love it." Arthur said firmly. "Now shut up."

"Yes, sir." Eames saluted, grinning. Arthur couldn't help but grin in return, his heart feeling like it would burst out of his chest at any moment. This was the first time he had seen Eames remotely displaying any sort of vulnerability, and Arthur had never felt more in love. He bit his lip, struggling to conceal his adoration, terrified that Eames would see it.

"I'm going to get a glass of water, I'll be right back." He mumbled, fleeing the laptop. Once he was in the kitchen, out of view of the webcam, he began to control his breathing. His hands trembled as he reached for a glass, fumbling as he turned the tap on. Arthur gulped down the cool water, gratefully, closing his eyes. He needed to stop being so obvious, wearing his heart on his sleeve. It would change their entire relationship if Eames ever found out how he felt.

Composing himself, Arthur returned to the laptop. Eames' face lit up when he returned, and it made Arthur's chest clench painfully.

"Hey." He greeted quietly. "I'm back."

"Darling! You should get some sleep, it's late." Eames pointed out.

Arthur was about to agree, then he paused, realising something. "Aren't you at work?"

Eames smiled. "No, I just got back."

"That's not what I meant." Arthur insisted, although he recognised the swerve. "The security company. I thought Cobol only covered you while you were away?"

Eames was silent, and Arthur understood. "They didn't cover you while you were on the run."

The Brit shook his head. "No, I was given notice of my dismissal while I was in Los Angeles, for failure to turn up to work, and failure to inform of an absence."

"I'm sorry." Arthur apologised. "What are you going to do?"

Eames shrugged.

"I could fix something." Arthur offered. The offer was genuine, but he knew Eames wouldn't take him up on it.

The thief shook his head. "Thanks, Arthur, but it'll be fine. The boss will still give me a reference, and I've had a good enough record that I shouldn't have too much trouble finding another job. Maybe I'll try at a casino."

Arthur smiled. "Well, you'd be able to spot when someone was cheating." He yawned.

"Go on, darling. Get some sleep. I'll call you tomorrow." Eames insisted, gently. Arthur was clearly exhausted.

"Alright." Arthur relented. "Call me when you wake up, okay?"

Eames nodded. "I will. Sleep well, darling."

"Goodnight, Eames." Arthur murmured, ending the call. He headed into his bedroom, and was asleep within a few minutes.

* * *

Eames stared at his screen for a few moments after Arthur had gone to bed. The unplanned trip to Los Angeles had changed everything. Before, Eames had been able to cling on to a small hope that maybe Arthur wasn't the same person he was online, that there was the distinct possibility that maybe, just maybe, Arthur wasn't as attractive or as perfect as he appeared to be online.

He was better.

Eames was well and truly fucked. Arthur was everything he would ever want: smart, caring, funny, sarcastic, handsome… the list was endless. And what made him perfect was that he saw past Eames' less than desirable traits to see who he was inside. Not many people could look past a criminal career in international theft, and consider said thief one of their best friends. But Arthur could.

If he'd been in love with Arthur before the trip, he'd returned head over heels. Eames had found himself watching Arthur's every move, cataloguing every detail and running over it in his head. How could Eames ever find someone to have a future with, fall in love with someone else, when he had perfection right under his nose, so close, yet so unattainable?

But was it so unattainable? There'd been a brief moment earlier, where Eames could swear he saw the same thing in Arthur's eyes he himself worked so hard to hide. And then there'd been the kiss. It had been shared out of the mutual need for comfort, contact. Eames had savoured that small gesture, playing it over and over in his mind. Anyone else would probably have pushed him away, and if they hadn't, the next day, they would have brought it up and ruled it as a mistake.

Arthur had recognised it for what it was, and let the subject lie. That kind of understanding, that they were on the same page for so many things never failed to amaze Eames. And the truth was, that Arthur had closed his eyes, and leaned into the kiss. He hadn't deepened it, or tried to push it further, but he had participated. That had to mean something?

Whatever it meant, Eames was sure it didn't mean that Arthur returned his feelings. He didn't even dare hope for that. Someone like Arthur could never be meant for him.

His phone rang, Coldplay's The Scientist, which was a ringtone he'd set solely for Yusuf, in reference to his profession. Arthur's was Estelle and Kanye West's American Boy, much to Arthur's distaste and Eames' amusement. In retrospect, the lyrics fit quite well.

"Yusuf! What can I do for you, mate?"

"Just checking you got home okay, I wanted to come with Ari to the airport, but I've literally _just_ finished my solution for treating bacteria on the… well, you don't need to hear about that. You're back in London now?"

"Via Frankfurt." Eames told him. "Cobol had me fly straight to another job."

Yusuf hummed. "Well?"

"Well, what?" Eames frowned. "I got it, of course. You know I'm the best at my job."

"You are." Yusuf agreed. "But that's not what I meant. _Arthur_. Tell me about Arthur! What was it like, living with him for nearly three weeks?"

Eames sighed. "You know as well as I do how I feel about him, Yusuf. How do you think it was?"

Yusuf grinned. "Torturous, I imagine. Your feelings didn't change once you met in person, then?"

"If anything? They got worse." Eames sighed. "He's fantastic. He saved my neck where Cobol was. There's nothing he can't find on a computer."

"I know; he's got some serious skills." Yusuf confirmed. "Have you told him how you feel?"

Eames laughed, scornfully. "Don't, Yusuf, seriously. You saw what happened while I was out there. Everything I touch turns to shit."

He could practically _feel_ Yusuf glowering at him. "Eames, don't be so quick to blame yourself. Mal has schizophrenia! That was hardly your fault."

"No," Eames agreed readily. "But that news could have come to light any time, yet it was her distrust of me that brought it out when I was there, and the fact that she _kissed_ me. I haven't kissed a female in nearly seven years!"

"And everyone forgave you. Eames, listen to yourself! You're my best friend, I know for a fact Ari loves you, she's waiting for you to add her on Skype, by the way. And Arthur…" He trailed off.

"What about Arthur?" Eames asked, suspiciously.

"Arthur knows everything about you, your job, your past, and he still trusts you, completely. Eames, you're a _thief_, for crying out loud, and he still let you stay with him. Most people wouldn't let you in the front door, and he left you in his dorm while he went to college. You could have cleared him out, left him with nothing."

"Hey! I would never!" Eames cried, wholeheartedly resentful of Yusuf's remark.

The chemist sighed, patiently. "Yes, and _I_ know that. But what assurance did Arthur have, other than your word for it? You should tell him. I think you'd be pleasantly surprised."

"I can't." Eames said helplessly. "If, by some miracle, he actually returned my feelings, what sort of future could we have? You know that to leave Cobol means death, or a life on the run, and I wouldn't subject Arthur to either. A relationship like that would draw Cobol's attention too quickly, flying back and forwards… he'd be hurt or killed as a punishment for a failed job. I couldn't live with that on my conscience. I'd rather keep him as a friend, it's enough."

"Tell me something, Eames, before I hang up. You say your friendship with Arthur is enough, but do you think that will always be the case? If Arthur manages to overcome his unassertiveness, and meets someone, settles down, could you stand by to watch it happen? Or would you break his heart by pulling away from him when you've done so much for him? Could you watch him fall in love without constantly wondering what would have happened if you'd said something, and if it would have been you?"

"I'd have to." Eames said quietly. "I'm not saying it wouldn't hurt, but if that's what it took to make him happy, so be it."

"Then you're a fool and a coward, Eames." Yusuf told him, stern and disappointed. "I'm not surprised at the first, you've always been foolhardy. But I've never considered you a coward."

The line disconnected and Eames blinked. It was the first time Yusuf had ever chewed him out over something, and it was the one thing that he couldn't change his mind on. He was positive that the right thing, the most selfless thing to do was to stand aside and let Arthur find happiness with someone who could give him everything he needed. That someone could never be Eames, so why waste both their times and risk the inevitable heartbreak?

He imagined watching Arthur meet someone else and his chest ached, painfully. He quashed the pain and closed his laptop lid, deciding to get some sleep. There was nothing he could do about his situation. He could only hope that his feelings would fade, in time.

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**Sorry about the lack of fluff, but I still don't think they're at the stage where they'd be comfortable enough together; I want their relationship to develop a little more, but not too much longer!**

**Please, please review. I love to know what you think!**

******Tumblr: deeper-dreams dot tumblr dot com**


	20. Use Your Light To Guide The Way

**Okay, so have a lovely New Year present from me :) this chapter is a little devastating, because it shows a softer side of Eames that doesn't come out too often, and it's easier to understand why he's being so stubborn when it comes to telling Arthur how he feels.**

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**Chapter Nineteen: Use Your Light To Guide The Way**

For the next two months, the interaction between Arthur and Eames was severely limited. Arthur, desperate to visit Eames in London, took every opportunity to work on his final assignment. It needed to be thirty pages, with an ungodly amount of references, so he spent a lot of time with his head buried in a pile of books that almost reached his ceiling. Arthur enjoyed the research aspect of it, he just was nervous about writing the actual assignment.

Eames, still on unsure footing with Cobol, ended up having to undertake two more jobs in that time period, first in Beijing, then in Bern. When he wasn't away, he was swamped with building plans and security details. Since his dismissal from the storage company, he had a lot more free time on his hands, so was able to spend a more balanced time working, leaving a few hours free to talk to Arthur.

The majority of their nights were spent in front of their computers, with a video call as usual. The difference this time was that they were working silently. Every so often one of them would say something that the other would reply to, before their companionable silence elapsed again.

Eames found himself watching Arthur occasionally as he read, finding his expression when he was concentrating to be utterly adorable.

Arthur noticed that Eames squinted a little when he read, and smiled to himself.

"Eames?" He called.

The thief hummed his response without looking up, around the pen he was sucking in an obscenely attractive way.

"Why don't you wear your glasses?"

The Brit's mouth fell open and the pen clattered onto the desk.

"How did you…?" He faltered.

"You're squinting." Arthur told him. "Why don't you wear them?"

Eames shrugged. "I usually wear contacts, but I lost one earlier. I'll replace them tomorrow." He explained, reaching out of sight of the camera, presumably for his glasses. His hand lifted to his face, and he straightened up, nervously.

They were tasteful glasses, frameless and squared and they made him look extremely intelligent. Arthur's mouth went dry.

"You look hot." He said automatically, before he could stop himself. He inwardly panicked and berated himself for being so obvious.

Eames blinked in surprise and immediately looked pleased.

"_Thank_ you, darling." He beamed. "I always think they make me look ridiculous."

"Definitely not." Arthur laughed shakily, before abruptly returning to his book. Eames watched him softly for a few moments, before returning his pen to his mouth.

After a few minutes, he glanced up to find Arthur watching him intently. When the American realised he'd been caught staring, he blushed and returned to his book. Eames felt stirrings of hope that he quickly quashed.

"How far through your work are you?" He asked, eventually, as Arthur began typing rapidly.

Arthur frowned. "I've done about twenty eight pages, so I have another two to go, and then I have to edit them, excessively. There's too much I'm missing out, and I'll get penalised for extra pages, so I have to be a little more precise with what I have."

Eames nodded, then realised Arthur couldn't see him. "Do you think you'll get it done?"

Arthur nodded, a smile spreading. "Yes. If I can finish these last two pages tonight, I'll book the flight. My break is next week, so when's good for you?"

"Darling, I would bring you here now if it were possible. Whenever you want to come is fine by me." Eames told him, seriously.

"Okay, so Easter is the twenty fourth, so I could do the last two weeks, and be there for your birthday? That gives me the next three weeks to do any editing, and then a week when I get back."

Eames agreed. "Sounds good to me, darling."

"Okay." Arthur grinned. "Bear with me then."

He worked steadily, adding another five pages to his dissertation, three over the page limit. He typed the final footnote at 3am, and yawned, his shoulders slumped with exhaustion.

"I'm done." He told Eames, whose face lit up. "This is your last chance to change your mind."

Eames gave him a look of disbelief and Arthur smiled. He flipped opened a browser, and began pricing the cheapest flights to London. He whistled quietly as even the cheapest flight was just over a thousand dollars. He earned that in just over a week with Jacques, but he had rent and bills to pay, plus he was saving for an apartment when he graduated – renting was a possibility, but he wanted to at least have some options.

Arthur sighed. He could afford it, but he wouldn't be able to make it a frequent trip. He reasoned that when he graduated, before he'd found a job, he could take on more work from Jacques, who was always looking for researchers. He had address books overflowing with contacts, some legal, some not. Arthur briefly toyed with the idea of mentioning Cobol to Jacques, to see if he knew who they were, but decided against it. The impression he'd got from Eames was that Cobol was dangerous. If Jacques knew of them, he would want to know how Arthur had heard of them. If he didn't, Arthur would have brought it to his attention and Jacques would find out about Eames' less than desirable profession. Either way, it spelt trouble for the Brit.

Arthur booked the flight, filling in details from his passport and paying with the card that was linked to his savings account. He started to feel excited; to see Eames again would be amazing, and this was his first time visiting England.

"Wednesday, April 13th. My flight lands at quarter past six in the evening." Arthur told him. "I leave on the 29th at half past two."

"Let's not talk about when you leave, pet, you haven't even arrived yet." Eames objected. "Let's talk about what you want to see when you get here."

Arthur thought about it. "Well, you mentioned seeing a show, and Oxford Street, was it? They both sound good, and then I'd like to see Buckingham Palace."

Eames groaned. "What is it with you Americans and the Queen? You're so predictable."

"What do you think I should want to do in London then?" Arthur asked, impatiently.

Eames laughed. "I'm just joking, darling, although I insist we go clubbing and to a casino."

"I'm underage." Arthur replied, automatically, before remembering the legal age to drink and gamble in England was eighteen. "Oh. Alright then, but I refuse to get drunk."

"Darling, you need to build up your tolerance." Eames argued, but Arthur stood firm. His first hangover had been a successful deterrent.

"Fine, fine." He sighed. "Darling, I'm going to have to love you and leave you, I'm afraid. It's coming up to the afternoon here, and I haven't been to bed yet. Which means that it's nearly 4am in Los Angeles, so I think you should be getting to bed too."

Arthur yawned. "Yeah, I guess you're right." He admitted. "I'll call you tonight. Night."

"Sweet dreams, darling." Eames smiled and closed the window, ending the call. He lay back on his bed, fully clothed, and fell asleep almost immediately, thinking about Arthur.

When he awoke, it was late evening. Eames could hear Rob moving around downstairs, making dinner. With a sigh, Eames got up and headed down.

"Hey." Rob smiled. "I'm making spaghetti, if you want some."

Eames sat down. "Don't mind if I do, I'm starving." He grinned.

Rob rolled his eyes. "You're always starving. And I'm sure spending fourteen hours talking to your internet boyfriend is very tiring work."

Eames frowned. "You timed me? And he's not my boyfriend, he's just a friend."

"Not by choice though, I bet." Rob grinned. "Any fool could see your feelings for him. And while I think it's great you've met someone, don't you think you should meet him first?"

"I have." Eames replied, casually.

Rob frowned, confused. "When?"

Eames sighed. "I think it's about time I explained a little about what it is I actually do." He gestured for Rob to sit.

His flatmate turned off the stove top and obeyed, looking a little wary. Eames grinned at him reassuringly.

"Rob, you've been a lot more accepting of the terms of living here than I ever thought. I haven't told you for your own safety, but I've come to the conclusion that I can't let you walk into this blindly. You need to know." He sighed again. "My work as a night guard was a cover for the fact that every so often, I have to go abroad. I can't tell you why or who I work for, but what I do is dangerous and there are a lot of risks. My employer doesn't tolerate mistakes, and so if a job goes badly, I have to disappear until I can sort things out. If I don't, it's a certainty that I will be killed."

Rob's jaw dropped. "Eames, are you serious? What the fuck?"

Eames waved off his flatmate's concern. "I've been doing it for nearly four years, and I've made one mistake, and that was in January."

Rob immediately looked horrified, but then realisation dawned. "So you disappeared to meet Arthur."

Eames nodded. "Yes. While I was there, I managed to rectify the mistake, and came home."

His flatmate sighed. "Seriously, Eames, only you could be mixed up in something like this. It doesn't bother me, if that's what you wanted to hear. The less you tell me, the better it is for both of us. Does Arthur know?"

When Eames nodded, he grinned. "Man, have you got it _bad_."

The thief ignored him. "He's coming to London in a few weeks. I'd like him to stay here, if that was okay with you."

Rob blinked. "Why are you asking me? You own the flat."

Eames sighed, patiently. "Yes, but you live here just as much as I do. You have an equal say in what goes on in this flat, so I'm asking for your input."

"Oh." Rob blinked. "Well, sure. Of course. I'd like to meet him anyway, to see who's ensnared you so thoroughly. Honestly, I've never seen you like this about someone. You've changed since you met Arthur."

"In what way?" Eames frowned. He hadn't noticed any changes at all.

Rob raised an eyebrow, noting his scepticism. "Let's see. You're annoying and like to tease everyone incessantly, but now you seem to only save that for Arthur. You flirt with and seduce anyone you can just to prove you can, and now you only have eyes for him. It's like … watching Casanova settle down. It's obvious to me that you won't settle for anyone but Arthur now, and at twenty two, that's a bit of a commitment to make."

"I'm not committing to anything." Eames snapped, defiantly. His shoulders slumped. "You're right on most counts; especially that I will definitely never want anyone else. I've been in love before, once or twice, and it's never felt anything like this. But Arthur and I are complicated. We're not together and I don't even known how he feels about me. And no, before you ask, I haven't told him how I feel either. I've just told you about my job, and because of it, I can't form close relationships. It would be used against me."

Rob stared at him, disbelievingly. "You mean the man you've spent the last eleven months falling in love with, and you haven't even told him?"

"Did you not hear a word I just said?" Eames frowned. "My employers would kill him if I made a mistake!"

"So don't make a mistake?" Rob pointed out. "You said yourself, you've only made one mistake in four years, and I'm willing to bet there were more circumstances than you've told me. You're a perfectionist, you don't make mistakes. See?" He added, when Eames nodded, grudgingly."

Eames slumped onto the table. Rob stood up and turned the pasta back on.

"It's not that simple." Eames murmured. "If it were, don't you think I'd have told him by now? There's more to it than just my job. It would change our friendship if he doesn't feel the same. I'm not willing to lose him, and if that means he'll never know that I'm in love with him, so be it."

The conversation was closed, and instead the talk turned to lighter topics, of where Eames had travelled to and what he was going to show Arthur in London. Rob listened, eagerly, telling Eames of his own travelling.

"Are you going back to University in September? I know you suspended your studies when you left America, but are you planning to go back?" Eames asked.

Rob shrugged, awkwardly. "I'm not sure. I never really had an interest in my degree in the first place. It was just something I had to do. Now, I'm not sure. I thought maybe I'd like to go into counselling, but I haven't really looked into it."

Eames nodded. "It's a worthwhile career to pursue."

"What about you?" Rob asked curiously as he slid a plate towards Eames. "Do you think you'll be doing… whatever it is you do for the rest of your life? Or will you take a desk job in a few years?"

Eames took a bite of his pasta, not answering immediately. "You don't just retire from my line of work; I knew that when I signed up for it that I would be doing this for the rest of my life." He hesitated. "Listen, we need to talk about this. I'm going to tell you something that I've never shared with anyone, and for both our sakes, you can't repeat this to anyone, _especially_ Arthur."

Rob nodded. "Okay."

"The thing is I'm already an anomaly. I've been doing this job for nearly four years. Most of us don't live that long. About ninety per cent don't make it to a year, and those that do outlive their usefulness." Eames swallowed. "The reason I've lasted this long is because I'm fucking brilliant at what I do, but that's not always enough. There are rules you have to abide by. Always carry a gun. If in doubt, kill. In four years, I've never had to take a life, because murder attracts attention and the best way to stay alive is to _run_. But I'm not a coward, and if there was no other way, I would shoot someone and I wouldn't lose any sleep over it."

"Why are you telling me this?" Rob asked, quietly. "Why now?"

Eames looked at him seriously. "Because this is who I am and you deserve to know what you signed up for, by living here. Because this is what I wake up to every day, and what I have to see every time I look in the mirror. This is why nothing can ever happen between me and Arthur. Because I'm a dead man walking, and every second I live is a fucking miracle, when I should be dead."

A tear slid down his face. "Because I'm in love with him, I'm too selfish to let him go, even knowing that he'll end up hurt when something happens to me."

He began to sob into his arms. Rob moved over to him and patted his shoulder, awkwardly.

"Eames, calm down." The Brit wiped his eyes, ashamed of his outburst, and apologised.

"No, don't apologise." Rob said firmly. "Just listen to me. I've been living with you for nearly two years now and we've never had this discussion once. You've never told me what you did for a living, and I've never asked. And it's not because I don't care, or because I didn't want to bring it up. Do you know why I've never asked what you do?"

Eames shook his head, miserably. "No."

Rob moved over to the sink and opened the cupboard beneath it. Eames froze as Rob brought out a Sig Sauer. He placed it gingerly on the table.

"The day I moved in here, I found that. Since then, I found another in the lamp in the living room, and some sort of machine gun underneath the bath panelling. I've always known that what you do isn't entirely legal or ideal for a flatmate, but it didn't change anything. My circumstances before I moved in here were … less than desirable." He admitted. "And I'll admit when I found that gun, I panicked and debated running. But I had nowhere else to go, so I stayed and I've never regretted that decision. You've been nothing but a friend to me, Eames, and the majority of what you've just said is bullshit."

"You don't think I'm dangerous?" Eames snapped. "The three guns you found are the tip of the iceberg. I have twenty three guns concealed in this house and at least twice that in melee weapons and knifes."

"And how many of them have you used?" The American countered, eyebrows raised. "I'm not disputing your capability to kill, Eames; I'm questioning your motivation. You said yourself, you've never had to because you always find another way. You think you could take away a life without batting an eyelid, but I wonder just _how much_ sleep you would get if you ever had to. And the thing that I dispute most? That nothing can happen between you and Arthur. He's accepted everything you've told him so far, and I think he'll have inferred a lot more about your life expectancy than you think."

His tone gentled. "You're far from selfish for loving him, Eames, the fact that you don't want to because you know it will hurt him negates that whole point of view. But you are selfish for not telling him. You're always complaining that Arthur lacks confidence in himself; and can't what you see in him. Maybe you should stop being a hypocrite, and look past your self-hatred to see what Arthur sees in you. What we all see in you."

Eames was speechless. Rob wasn't the opening up kind, and it must have taken a lot of courage for him to say that.

"I'll think about it." He whispered. It was the best he could do.

Rob nodded, and left the room, leaving Eames alone with his thoughts, tears starting to flow down his cheeks.

* * *

The next two weeks passed by quite quickly. Arthur pushed his trip to London to the back of his head in order to focus on his assignment. On Thursdays, he took a night off from working and headed along to Ariadne's. Movie night was officially over, until Mal had recovered sufficiently that she could be around other people. To Arthur's surprise, the Thursday before his trip to London, Dom was there.

"Dom!" He exclaimed, surprised. "I didn't expect you to be here."

Dom smiled at him. "Hey, Arthur. How've you been?"

"Good." Arthur returned the smile. "Up to my eyes in textbooks. You? And Mal?"

"She's good." Dom grinned. "I'm great. We're getting there, slowly. She was thinking about coming next week."

Arthur froze. Shit. He'd completely forgotten to mention it to everyone.

"Er, I can't actually make it next week, or a couple of weeks after that." He said, uneasily. How could he have forgotten to tell his friends?"

Dom frowned. "Why not?" His brow cleared. "Oh, is Eames coming back? You could bring him…"

"He's not coming back." Arthur cut him off. "Well, not next week, anyway. With the assignment and everything, I've been so busy, I forgot to mention it and I should have told you straight away."

"Oh, the assignment?" Ariadne laughed. "Surely you can take one night off a week."

"I've finished the assignment." Arthur admitted. "I finished it two weeks ago. I've done nothing but work for the two months, when I haven't been at college or taking assignments from Jacques. Thursday nights are the only time I've taken off for weeks."

A confused silence fell. "But…why?" Ariadne asked. "We've got another three weeks before the assignment is due in. Why did you finish it five weeks early?"

"So I could take the next two weeks off without having to work." Arthur admitted. He hesitated. "I'm going to London."

Silence met his words. "You forgot to tell us you were going to London?" Ariadne asked. "Yusuf, did you know about this?"

"Yes." Yusuf admitted, quietly. "Eames mentioned it to me, but it was Arthur's business to tell. I didn't want to push him in to anything."

Arthur shook his head, quickly. "It wasn't like that. You know how I get when I'm working; I pushed it to the back of my mind so I could concentrate on the assignment, that's all. I always intended to tell you, it just slipped my mind."

Dom nodded, slowly. Yusuf patted Arthur on the shoulder, forgivingly. He believed that Arthur had forgotten. Ariadne looked unhappy, but she didn't push the subject any further.

The night passed by quickly, although Arthur felt significantly guilty. He knew that, while his friends knew that he was no liar, they would find it hard to grasp that something like a trip to London had slipped his mind, and would be hurt, particularly Ariadne.

So when she excused herself to get a drink, Arthur followed her into the kitchen.

"Ari, can I talk to you a minute?" She tensed, but didn't refuse. "Ari, you know I'm no liar. I've never lied to you in all the years we've known each other, even about trivial things. And about something like this … you were the only person who accepted Eames and trusted my judgement from the very beginning. Why would I keep something like this from you?"

Ariadne turned around, sighing. "I know, Arthur. But I didn't even know it was something you were considering, let alone doing."

"It kinda came out of nowhere." Arthur admitted. "He said he missed me, and I asked if he meant it, about coming back. He said I was welcome to visit him in London, and I said I would if I got my assignment done. So it wasn't definite up until I booked it about two weeks ago."

Ariadne nodded, happier now that she knew it wasn't that Arthur didn't trust her. "Are you staying with him and his flatmate?"

He nodded. "Yeah. I fly out the 13th and come back the 29th."

Ari smiled. "It'll be good for you to see him again. Anyone can see how much you miss having him around. He grows on you quite quickly."

She grabbed her water and headed back to the others. Arthur grabbed his own glass and followed her in, shaking his head.

Five days later, Arthur was all packed. His flight was at quarter past six the next evening, so he had to be at the airport three hours before. Ariadne had offered to take him and Arthur had gladly accepted. So on Tuesday morning, Eames was watching with amusement over the webcam as Arthur ran around his dorm, packing.

"Darling, calm down. Seriously, it'll be fine. You're here for fifteen days, the time your flight lands. You don't need to pack everything with you. And anything you forget, I'm sure I'll have it, or you'll be able to buy it. Stop panicking."

"No time to stop anything." Arthur called as he dashed into his bathroom. He emerged with his shower gel and shampoo, and his electric shaver.

"I'll be needing to pop out for some international adapters, then?" Eames asked, gesturing to the shaver. "Your plugs won't work over here."

"Shit." Arthur swore and sank into his chair. "Eames, I'm freaking out."

The Brit pouted. "Darling, I'm offended. Why are you getting so stressed? It's just me. I've met you before, darling, remember?"

"Yes, but it's not just you. It's your flatmate, and you want to go to a casino and I'll have to speak to people in the airport..." Arthur babbled, before taking a deep breath. "I know I'm getting worked up over nothing. Sorry, I'll try to calm down."

Despite his promise, Arthur was still keyed up for the rest of the evening. He found himself in bed early that night, after an excited and eager goodbye.

"I can't believe I'll be in London tomorrow." Arthur bit his lip, excitedly.

Eames smiled. "I know, darling. I can't wait to see you again. I've missed you terribly. I know we talk every day, but it's not the same. It's just my luck that I only have two friends in the world, and they're both a ten hour flight away." He sighed.

"I know how you feel." Arthur smiled, sadly. "I better go to bed now. I'll lose a lot of sleep on an overnight flight, so I'm going to try and get an early night."

"I'll be waiting for you at Heathrow when your flight lands." Eames promised. "Sweet dreams, darling."

"Good night, Eames. I'll see you soon."

With sheer nerves, Arthur severely struggled to get to sleep that night. He didn't know why he was nervous. He'd met Eames before, they'd hit it off really well. Last time, he hadn't known Eames was coming, but this time, he had enough time to work up a full-scale panic attack. What if things were different and Eames didn't like his personality? What if his flatmate misunderstood Arthur's shyness and took it for rudeness? What if Eames had to leave for a job? All sorts of scenarios were running through his head, each of them as unlikely as the next. Eventually, Arthur managed to push them all aside, and drift off into an uneasy slumber.

The next morning, he woke up late, with only two hours before Ariadne arrived to take him to the airport. He rushed into the shower, and dressed hurriedly, packing his last minute items and forcing a slice of toast and a glass of water down. His stomach was churning with nerves.

When Ariadne arrived, she noticed his anxiety immediately, correctly interpreting its cause.

"Don't be silly, Arthur." She said, not unkindly. "You know as well as I do that Eames adores you, whether you're tongue tied or a chatterbox. You'll have a great time, trust me."

She helped him load his suitcase into the trunk, before they slid into their seats. On the way to LAX, Ariadne was chatting to Arthur about everything she'd found out about London. Arthur listened, mentally making notes to take a lot of pictures for her. He'd bring her back a gift too, something typically British."

At the airport, Ariadne pulled him into the same hug that she'd given Eames when he'd left. Arthur laughed and hugged her back.

"I'll call you when I get settled." Arthur promised. "I'll see you in around two weeks."

"You better call me, or I'll kick your ass when you get back." She warned him, then smiled. "Have fun, Arthur. And tell Eames to add me on Skype, he still hasn't done it yet."

"I will." Arthur assured her grinning. "Take care, Ari. Thanks for the ride."

"Call me with your return time, and I'll pick you up. See you, Arthur." She waved, as he headed over to check in. Ariadne waited until he'd checked in and dropped off his suitcase. He hoisted his backpack onto his back, and waved, before heading through security. Ariadne watched until he was out of sight, and then headed back to her car, smiling. Hopefully when Arthur returned, he would return with both he and Eames eventually admitting their feelings for each other.

Arthur headed to the departure lounge, eagerly, taking a seat. He reached for his phone, and sent a quick tweet to Eames.

**Arthur Levine (Penrose_Steps)**

**To: forgewithstyle: Can't wait to see you tomorrow! #excited**

He plugged his headphones in eagerly, and waited for his flight to be called, ecstatic that he was only hours away from seeing Eames again. His nervous quashed, Arthur was feeling optimistic about this trip, as though everything would be perfect.

* * *

**So, yeah! Arthur and Eames are together in London in the next chapter, and from there, things will start heading towards them getting together as a couple, so not much longer, my lovely patient readers! I honestly never intended it to go on this long when I started!**

**Please review, they make me smile, and make me want to write more fluffy scenes :D :D**


	21. Run Away With My Heart

**Okay, so Arthur is finally in London! This chapter marks where their relationship begins to change, and they talk about things they've been avoiding. The chapter title comes from Wherever You Will Go, originally by The Calling, but if anyone has heard Boyce Avenue's acoustic version, I much prefer that one.**

* * *

**Chapter Twenty: Run Away With My Heart**

Arthur stepped off the plane, walking through the tunnel to baggage claim in a daze. He couldn't believe he was in London. On the way through, he peeked out of the window at the weather. It was a dull, cold day, nothing out of the ordinary. It felt a little chilly to Arthur, who was acclimatised to Los Angeles weather, but Eames had told him all about the unpredictability of British weather, and he'd worn his jacket.

As soon as he was through passport control, Arthur reached for his phone, sending Eames a quick text to let the Brit know he'd arrived. As he arrived at the luggage carousel, a reply pinged through.

**12.27pm Eames**

**I'm waiting at arrivals for you, darling.** **Hurry through :)**

Arthur smiled and glanced up, spotting his suitcase as it sailed past him. Hastily, he stuffed his cell phone into his pocket and jogged after it. He grabbed the handle and pulled it firmly from the carousel. Standing the case upright, Arthur paused. There was only a short corridor standing between Eames and himself. Without a second thought, Arthur straightened his posture and walked confidently towards the exit. He walked through the doorway, his eyes searching the crowd for Eames. His stride slowed as he realised he couldn't pick his friend out of the crowd. Glancing down, Arthur reached for his phone.

"Arthur! Arthur, over here!" His head shot up, turning automatically towards the sound, his eyes scanning the area sharply. He saw a hand waving frantically from the crowd; before Eames managed weave his way to the front.

Arthur moved towards him quickly and they hugged for a long time. Neither Arthur nor Eames wanted to be the first to let go. Eventually, Arthur stepped back regretfully, grasping his suitcase. He grinned at Eames, shyly, and Eames flashed him a crooked grin in return.

"It's good to see you again." The Brit breathed, unable to tear his eyes away from Arthur. Arthur blushed furiously and nodded.

"You too." He replied softly, smiling.

Eames led him outside. "How was the flight?"

"Long." Arthur admitted. "I managed to get some sleep, but not too much."

Eames smiled, sympathetically. "I know that feeling, you'll have severe jetlag. Don't worry; I didn't plan anything for tonight. I guessed you'd want to sleep."

Arthur sighed, gratefully. "Thanks, Eames. I think I'll be good for a few hours though." He paused, wondering where Eames was leading him. "Where are we going? Is there a bus stop around?"

Eames stopped and looked at Arthur. "Darling, Heathrow airport is at least twenty miles outside of London, and it costs a ridiculous amount of money to get back, unless we go by underground, and the journey is almost an hour. We're driving."

"You have a car?" Arthur asked, surprised. Eames had never mentioned that he could drive before, but he often complained about public transport.

"No." Eames admitted. "But a friend of mine does and he let me borrow it."

He stopped next to a parked silver Ford and pulled the keys out of his pocket. He took Arthur's case and slid it onto the backseat. Gesturing for Arthur to get in, Eames climbed into the driver's seat.

"You're insured to drive this car, right?" Arthur asked, nervously.

Eames grinned. "Of course, darling. And I even have a licence to drive it too!"

Arthur blushed. "Sorry. You just never mentioned you could drive."

"Because I don't usually." Eames replied conversationally, as he slowly pulled away. "If someone were to track me down, they'd hardly be likely to suspect someone who relies so heavily on public transport."

Arthur could see the logic behind the reasoning and nodded, thoughtfully. It couldn't be said that Eames was lax about his security measures; on the contrary, he seemed to have considered every possible flaw that could be exploited, and taken steps to ensure that nothing could ever be traced back to him.

The journey took around thirty minutes, but it passed by quickly. Arthur told Eames all about the sights Ariadne had recommended, and a few places he'd researched on his own, and what he'd like to see. He eventually remembered to text Ariadne and let her know he'd arrived safely.

"Did you think about a show you'd like to see?" Eames asked him. "I could get a listing of what's on, if you don't have any initial suggestions."

Arthur grinned. "Well, I thought maybe Avenue Q would be your sort of thing, and it looks like it would be funny."

"Is that the adult Sesame Street thing?" Eames chuckled. "That does look good. We'll get tickets for that then. We should do Phantom of the Opera too; it's been a while since I've seen it."

Arthur agreed, remembering fondly the book Eames had given him for Christmas.

When they pulled up outside of Eames' flat, Arthur looked amazed. It was painted white, and had a cheery red front door. It looked homely. Eames slid Arthur's case from the back of the car and gestured for Arthur to follow him. Fishing his key out of his pocket, Eames unlocked the door and held it open for Arthur, who stepped inside slowly, wheeling his case after him, looking around.

Eames grinned. "I'll give you the tour once we've dropped off your suitcase upstairs."

He took the case from Arthur and carried it easily upstairs. Arthur followed him, dutifully. Eames opened a door and lowered the case onto the bed, as Arthur glanced around. There was a poster of Clint Eastwood above the bed and a huge whiteboard on the far wall, which was blank, but on closer inspection, Arthur could read a few faded words, including _the dream_ and _private collection_.

"This is your room." He stated.

Eames raised an eyebrow, smiling. "Nothing escapes your notice, does it? Yes, this is my room. There are only two bedrooms, and Rob has the other, so you'll be staying here."

Arthur frowned in confusion. "And where will you be staying?"

Eames gestured back downstairs and Arthur objected instantly. "No way. I'll find a hotel; I absolutely _refuse_ to evict you from your own room. You should have told me it was inconvenient to have me here." He sighed, reaching for his holdall to grab his laptop.

"No." Eames took the holdall from Arthur's hand, gently. "I didn't mention it because I want you to stay here, and I've slept on the sofa before, it's fine, Arthur, honestly."

Arthur sighed. "I hope you don't steal the covers." He looked at Eames pointedly, whose mouth went dry.

"You want us to share the bed?" He was impressed that he managed to keep his voice steady.

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Unless you have a problem with that?" He asked, uncertainly.

"No." Eames said quickly. "Not at all. But I should warn you, I'm a snuggler." He grinned.

Arthur laughed and shoved his shoulder affectionately. Eames reached out and tucked a loose strand of hair behind his ear, and let his hand linger on Arthur's cheek.

"I'm glad you're here, darling." He said seriously.

Arthur unconsciously leaned into the touch. "Me too." He replied.

A moment of silence passed between them, and Eames stepped forward, brushing his fingers down to rest his palm against Arthur's neck. Wondering if he was misreading the look in Arthur's eyes, Eames hesitated. Before he could make a move, the sound of a key in the lock interrupted them, as Rob entered the flat.

"That you, Rob?" Eames called down.

"Yeah." The reply floated upstairs. "Is Arthur here? I'm going to make tea, do either of you want anything?"

Eames looked at Arthur, who nodded, accepting a cup of tea. They moved downstairs slowly, entering the kitchen. Rob had his back to Arthur, dropping teabags into three cups.

"Arthur, this is my flatmate, Rob. Rob, this is Arthur."

Rob turned around, a pleasant smile on his face, which faltered as he faced Arthur for the first time.

All the blood drained out of Arthur's face, and he grasped Eames' arm to steady himself. It just wasn't possible.

"Arthur." Rob nodded.

"Robert Fischer." Arthur whispered. He laughed, harshly, taking a seat and burying his face in his hands. "Of course it is. Because it wasn't enough that you let my boyfriend fuck you, you have to be living with Eames now too."

Eames, who had been staring between them, unable to comprehend what was going on, understood immediately.

"You have got to be bloody _joking_. How is this even possible? I meet _one_ person online, one fucking person out of six billion, and he's linked with everyone I know. How many coincidences am I meant to believe in?" He groaned. "Rob, where's this fucking tea? I think we need it."

Nodding silently, Rob quickly made the tea and carried it over, leaving Arthur to add milk or sugar to his own preference.

"This just can't be fucking happening." Arthur sighed into his arms.

Rob cleared his throat, nervously. "Eames. If Arthur doesn't object, I think you should leave us to talk. We clearly have a few things to discuss."

Arthur glanced up, coldly. "We have _nothing_ to discuss. I know everything I need to. I walked in on you screwing Nash, we broke up, you were transferred and I was left a fucking mess, unable to trust or talk to anyone. Does that sound about right to you?"

"Not exactly." Fischer's eyes narrowed. "Not even close. You walked in on me fucking someone who'd told me he was single, and that he really liked me. When you ran out, Nash told me the truth, that you were together and that he loved you. I haven't seen him since. The next thing I know, two of your _charming_ friends had spoken to my father, who promised to have me transferred. What he actually did was disown me, paid me off to never see me again. His _own son_, because he was disappointed that I was gay. I lost my family, my future, even my share of the business I'd been raised to believe I would inherit one day. My godfather helped me by finding me a room here, and every month he pays my rent. The money from my father is still in the bank, untouched. Does that tally up with everything you think you know? You weren't the only person to lose everything."

Arthur blinked. "I'm sorry." He said awkwardly. "I didn't ask Mal or Ariadne to do that. They told me they were vague about what happened, that they'd made it sound like Nash was corrupting you."

Rob managed a smile. "They were, but my father didn't get where he is today without being able to read between the lines." He sighed. "I don't blame them. If the situation was reversed, I would have probably done the same."

Eames, who had been standing behind them silently until now, sighed. "Jesus Christ, what I wouldn't give just for one peaceful night. Seriously, Rob? Two years, and you've never told me you're gay?"

"You never asked." Fischer shrugged, grinning at him. Arthur managed a weak grin himself at that.

"And you both have _terrible_ taste." Eames added, pulling a face. "I've had the … privilege of meeting Nash, and he's a fucking weasel. Could do with a bath or ten."

Rob turned to his Eames, silently asking him to elaborate, but Arthur spoke up before he had the chance.

"And a privilege it was to watch it, too." Arthur chuckled. "He broke his nose." He added, for Fischer's benefit.

"He asked for it." Eames pointed out. "It was hardly an unprovoked attack. He tried to imply that the insecurities he himself was responsible for was just Arthur's plan to get a pity fuck out of me."

Arthur blushed, and Rob hid his smile. From the short interaction he'd had with the pair of them, and knowing Eames' feelings, it was clear to Rob that Arthur returned those feelings, and that they were both just dancing around each other.

"So you broke his nose?" Rob repeated.

Eames nodded, puffing out his chest proudly. "And possibly loosened a few teeth. I'm not entirely positive though."

"A broken nasal bone, fractured left eye socket, severe bruising around the jaw, five loose teeth and two broken." Arthur rattled off. When Eames and Rob stared at him, he shrugged, blushing.

"I checked the hospital report. I was curious."

Rob grinned at watched Eames' eyes shine as he looked at Arthur, contrasting with the dismay and guilt visible on his face. Absent-mindedly, Eames brought his hand up to rub his stubble-covered chin.

"A fractured eye socket? Shit, I didn't actually mean to hit him that hard." Eames murmured, sheepishly.

Arthur smirked at him. "Yes, you did."

"Yes, I did." Eames agreed. "But still, it's not pleasant to fracture an eye socket."

Arthur nodded, wearily. He was exhausted from his flight, and with the stress of bumping into Robert Fischer on top of that, it had taken everything out of him. He took a gulp of his tea, hoping the caffeine would perk him up a little. Eames noticed Arthur's sudden lack of energy.

"Are we done here? Do you think you two can get along?" He demanded.

Rob and Arthur eyed each other, one suspicious, and the other with a bare honesty.

"I suppose so." Arthur said at last. "I'm willing to try it."

Rob nodded his agreement quickly, and excused himself. Eames followed him out of the room, gesturing for Arthur to stay.

"Is this going to be a problem?" He asked, quietly.

Rob shook his head. "Not on my count. I never had a problem with Arthur in the first place. But he doesn't trust me, and while I can't blame him, if I hang around it'll be difficult. So while I promise that things are good from my side, I think it's best if I keep out of the way until he goes home."

Eames smiled, sadly. "I'm sorry, Rob. I had no idea that you knew each other … I didn't even consider that you were from Los Angeles too."

Rob dismissed Eames' apology. "Seriously, forget about it. There's no harm done. Maybe Arthur will come around. But, Eames? I definitely think you should tell him how you feel. You'll never find anyone better than Arthur."

"I'll think about it." Eames said quietly, and walked back into the kitchen.

Arthur rose from his seat, awkwardly. "Listen, I can still find a hotel, I don't want to make things awkward for Robert, he lives here too."

"That won't be necessary." Eames told him, quickly. "He's fine with you staying here. He's just worried that it will be awkward for you, so he's going to try and keep out of the way."

"He shouldn't have to do that. It's his house." Arthur bit his lip.

Eames reached out and brushed his thumb along Arthur's lip, freeing it from his teeth. "It's fine, darling, honestly. Come on, I'll give you the tour."

Arthur followed Eames dutifully as he pointed out the bathroom, the shower, and Rob's room. It was a decent sized flat and Arthur quickly learnt his way around it. At last, they sat on Eames' bed, shoving the suitcase to one side.

"I cleared some space in the dresser for you." Eames told him. "So if you'd rather not live out of a suitcase for two weeks, the second drawer is free."

Arthur thanked him and lay back. "God, I'm exhausted. I could sleep for a month."

Eames pouted. "I'd rather you didn't, darling. You'll miss the whole trip. But I can leave you to sleep for a few hours, if you like."

Arthur shook his head and sat up again. "If I sleep now, it'll throw off my body clock for a few days. I need to stay awake until around seven or eight tonight, and then I'll have an early night. That should sort me out."

With an obvious struggle, he forced himself to his feet and hoisted his suitcase where he'd just been sitting. He unclicked it and began unpacking his clothes into the drawer that Eames had pointed out. Eames didn't make any offer to help, remembering how he'd had to iron his t-shirts every day when he was in LA, having stuffed his shirts in the dresser without making any effort to fold them. Instead, he watched Arthur refold his shirts, with deft, precise fingers.

"Darling, would you like to shower? I didn't even think, you must be desperate after your flight."

Arthur accepted gratefully, and when he was finished folding away his luggage and had grabbed a change of clothes, Eames showed the object of his affection how to work the shower. Once Arthur had gotten the hang of it, Eames disappeared into his room, calling to Arthur that he'd wait for him there.

Taking a swig of his tea, Eames' hands slipped around the mug, spilling hot tea down his torso. Swearing, Eames stripped off his t-shirt and cleaned it up, before heading downstairs and dropping it into the laundry basket. He got back upstairs just as Arthur stepped out of the shower, his hair tousled and wet, but wearing fresh clothes.

Eames bit back a grin as Arthur blushed and pointedly looked away from his bare torso. In his rush to dispose of the tea-covered shirt, he hadn't had a chance to throw on another shirt.

"Feeling better?" He asked, pleasantly.

Arthur nodded, and turned back, trying and failing to keep his eyes fixed on Eames' face. Instead, he trailed his gaze down Eames' body, focusing on the tattoos.

"More human at least. What does this tattoo mean?" He asked, brushing his finger's along Eames' ribs. Eames hissed and tensed at the touch.

"It's Chinese. It means money won is twice as sweet as money earned, but money stolen trumps them all." He grinned. Arthur chuckled and rolled his eyes, stepping into Eames' room so the thief could throw on a shirt.

"What did you want to do tonight? And what should we do about dinner?" Eames asked, as he rummaged through his wardrobe, looking for a shirt. He decided on a tight black t-shirt and pulled it on.

"Maybe we could get takeout and watch a movie or something, now I feel a little more awake?" He suggested.

"Sure, sounds good to me. Indian?" Eames offered.

"Why not." Arthur grinned. "Hey, Eames, I meant to ask. Did you have any jobs on?"

Eames shook his head. "Not right now. They eventually gave me a break." He grinned.

Arthur nodded. "And stealing La R_êv_e went well?" He asked, casually.

Eames head snapped up in shock. "Have you been checking up on me, darling?" A smile was playing on his lips.

"No." Arthur grinned. "You're just terrible at cleaning up after yourself." He traced the faded words '_the dream' _on the whiteboard and Eames chuckled.

"Well, at least I don't have to explain what the whiteboard is for." He laughed.

Arthur grew serious. "Eames? I know you trust me, enough to tell me what you do and were you go each time, but I don't know any specifics and I never check up on you. It's an invasion of your privacy."

Eames' grin faded. "Darling, it's not that I'd consider it an invasion of privacy, because it's not. If anything, it would be reassuring to know that you'd have my back. It's just not a good thing for you to be involved. This business is risky, and while I think you'd be a huge asset… you're not a fighter, darling, and I couldn't protect you all the way in Los Angeles."

Arthur nodded. "I know. It's not exactly a picnic when you're off on a job, and you just drop off the grid. I know there's no way for you to contact me, but it's just … you're one of my best friends, Eames, and one day you're going to be hurt, or killed, or arrested, and I won't even know. I'll just be waiting for your call when you make it home, and one day it just won't come."

He swallowed, desperately. "And I know you're not telling me everything, like the fact that you're probably lucky to have made it this long without making a mistake, or that one day Cobol is probably going to find some other thief to exploit and you'll become disposable, but that's fine. It's our way. I don't ask, and you don't tell me. It's the same reason I don't check up on you when you're on a job. If something goes wrong, I don't want to see that."

Eames sank down onto the bed slowly. He hadn't thought of it that way before, hadn't realised exactly what a burden it must be on Arthur and Yusuf, and potentially Rob too. Rob had little to worry about; if anything happened to Eames, the flat would become his, although Fischer didn't actually know that. Yusuf didn't mind so much, because he'd always known that Eames wasn't cut out for a life of desk jobs. When Eames had told him about Cobol, he had been concerned, but not surprised. Four years on, he'd had plenty of time to get used to it. Arthur had only found out just over six months ago and it was a lot to take in.

"I'm sorry, Arthur." He murmured. "I've never realised that it must be hard from the other side too. I've been incredibly remiss in considering your feelings."

Arthur choked and pulled Eames into a hug that surprised both of them. He wrapped his arms around the thief tightly, afraid to let go.

"It's not that, Eames. I can handle your job and I don't want to check up on you. But… if it's not impossible, I'd like to ask you a few favours."

They pulled back and Eames gestured for Arthur to continue.

"Two things, really." Arthur said hesitantly. "If you need to go into hiding, I want you to come to LA. It's no more unsafe than anywhere else in the world, it's unlikely that Cobol will know about me or Yusuf, and we can both try to fix your mistake."

Eames smiled. "You didn't need to even ask that, darling. There's nowhere else I would go. What's the second thing?"

"Can I have an outside frame? Like… if I don't hear from you within a certain time, I'll assume you're…not coming back. And if you break that time frame, I want your permission to check the security footage and find out what happened."

Eames nodded, immediately. "Done. It will depend on the job, but each time I let you know I'm leaving, I'll give you a time frame. If I don't get in touch, then you can check up on me." He paused, soberly, feeling tears prick his eyes. "Arthur? I know this is unfair to ask of you, but if that happens…try and find my body. For my mum."

Arthur fought back his own tears and nodded once. It was a huge responsibility to bear, but it was something Eames hadn't needed to ask, because Arthur would have done it anyway.

The atmosphere in the room had shifted when the topic did, but when Eames took Arthur's hand, gently, the tension slipped away. They'd broached the conversation that they'd been purposely avoiding since Eames left Los Angeles, and they both knew where things stood.

"Darling, I don't know about you, but I'm absolutely _starving_. Come on, let's stick a film on and order that takeaway."

They ended up watching Monty Python and the Holy Grail, curled up with a plate of madras each and rice, laughing and talking along with the movie. Eames did excellent impressions, his imitation of the French taunter caused Arthur to snort into his curry when he started talking about elderberries and hamsters.

"You're so full of shit." Arthur laughed, pushing his plate away. Eames grinned, innocently, but Arthur wasn't fooled for a moment.

Somewhere near the end of the film, Arthur fell asleep, his head on Eames' lap. The Brit stared down at the sleeping American and his heart jumped into his throat. How was he meant to get through the next two weeks spending time with Arthur and even sleeping next to him, without letting slip how much Eames was in love with him? Daringly, Eames reached out and brushed some strands of hair out of Arthur's eyes, gently.

Apparently he hadn't been gentle enough, because Arthur stirred, looking up at Eames through his dark, sleepy eyes.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to fall asleep." Arthur murmured, tiredly. "I should go to bed."

He struggled to his feet, and stumbled towards the stairs. Eames moved over to him, and wrapped an arm around Arthur's waist, helping him upstairs.

"Can you get undressed on your own, darling?" He asked, cheekily. Arthur nodded, and Eames went downstairs to clear away the dirty dishes and turn the television off. When he returned upstairs, he stopped at Rob's room, knocking. When Rob replied, he stuck his head in the door.

"Arthur's worn himself out, so I'm going to put him to bed. He'll probably kick my arse if I sleep on the sofa after he told me not to, and if I go later I'll disturb him, so I'm off to bed too."

Rob grinned at him. "At 8pm? You're so whipped, Eames."

The Brit flipped him off, good-naturedly, and closed the door, heading into his own room. Arthur had managed to change into a t-shirt, but his jeans and socks were still on, and he was dozing lightly, leaning against the wall. Repressing a grin, Eames leaned over and shook him away, gently.

"Arthur, darling, wake up."

Arthur woke up, and looked around blearily. It was clear he was going to be of no help, so Eames unbuttoned his jeans and lowered the zip, refusing to think of the fact that he could easily brush against Arthur's cock if he wasn't careful. As he pulled the jeans down, Arthur kicked them off his feet. He sat on the bed and pulled off his socks, while Eames shed his own jeans and found a baggy t-shirt. He usually slept in just boxers, but manners dictated that while sharing a bed, skin-on-skin contact was _not_ a good idea.

"Which side of the bed do you want?" Arthur mumbled. Eames let him choose, and Arthur chose the side closest to the wall. Eames slid under the covers next to him, keeping a few inches distance between them, pointedly not touching Arthur. Within a few minutes, he heard Arthur's breathing regulate, and Eames knew that he'd fallen back asleep. A few moments later, Arthur rolled over, resting his head on Eames' chest.

Slowly, Eames moved his arm, wrapping it around Arthur and pulling him closer. He'd never slept next to someone before. The heat from Arthur's body was nice, and the way they just slotted together was perfect.

For the first time, Eames drifted off to sleep wondering if that maybe he and Arthur were meant for each other after all.

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**So how many of you realised that Rob was actually Robert Fischer? It was a little twist I've been working on for a while! On another note, it seems like Eames is eventually coming around to the idea that maybe things could work out with Arthur. All he needs to do now is find out if Arthur actually returns his feelings ;)**

**Please review, I promise you I read them all and treasure each and every one. Much love! -DD**


	22. Don't You Ever Wonder How We Survive?

**Hello again! So sorry about the delay, I've had exams for University that I've had to study for! I only have one left now, on Wednesday, but after that it should be back to regular weekly(ish) updates. The chapter title comes from Monster, by Paramore.**

**Also, to Caspar, who couldn't find the extra scene on AO3: there is an authors note in this story which knocks the chapter numbers out of line, so you'll be needing to look at Chapter Fourteen on AO3! Hope you have better luck finding it!**

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**Chapter Twenty-One: Don't You Ever Wonder How We Survive?**

The next morning, Arthur awoke to find his head rested on Eames' chest, with a pair of grey eyes staring at him fondly. He blushed, furiously. While he wasn't exactly upset that he'd spent the night securely wrapped in Eames' arms, it was a little embarrassing that his subconscious had so obviously caused him to reach out to Eames in his sleep. How could he possible explain this away?

"Good morning, darling." Eames murmured quietly, a smile playing on the corners of his mouth. "Sleep well?"

"Morning." Arthur greeted, rolling off Eames in what he hoped was a subtle gesture and stretching out his arms. "Yeah, I really did. It was the best night's sleep I've had in a while. What about you?"

"I quite agree." Eames replied seriously, but something in his expression told Arthur that maybe he hadn't been as subtle as he'd thought. He wasn't sure if Eames was amused or upset. "Are you fully rested now? I thought we could explore a little today."

Arthur nodded, slowly. "I think so, as long as you don't expect me to run the London marathon."

Eames laughed, and Arthur felt his heart leap at the sound.

"The marathon isn't till Sunday, so you're safe." Eames grinned. "We could watch some of it if you like."

"Isn't Sunday your birthday?" Arthur pointed out. "Surely you don't want to watch the London marathon on your birthday?"

Eames pulled a face. "I suppose not. I haven't really thought about it, just another year older. My birthday stopped being special when I left home."

Arthur smiled sadly. "We'll make it special this year. I'll do what I can, anyway."

Eames reached out and took Arthur's hand, smiling at him fondly. "Darling, you're here in London. It can't _get_ any more special."

When they eventually managed to drag themselves out of bed, Eames made them breakfast, while entrusting Arthur to make tea as well as coffee.

"Darling, I know you won't let me down; I know what you Americans are like for your tea, and it's atrocious, but I know you'll do me proud."

Arthur glanced down at the mug he'd been stirring and felt like he'd been given a task far more serious than making a cup of tea. He felt like it was a test he needed to pass, like he needed to be worthy of making tea. So he took a gulp of his coffee as he handed Eames the tea, hoping the caffeine would steady his overreacting nerves.

Eames raised the cup to his lips and took a tentative sip. Arthur was mesmerised by Eames' plump, full lips wrapped around the rim of the mug. Those lips, he thought, should be on the FBI's Most Wanted. They were positively criminal. Arthur wondered what it would be like to kiss those lips, properly. He remembered their fleeting brush against his own in a moment of comfort, back in Los Angeles, and how it gave them the comfort they sought. It took Arthur most of his willpower to drag his eyes up to Eames' face, just as he lowered the cup. He awaited Eames' approval on baited breath.

A small smile tugged at the corner of Eames' lips as his eyes lowered to stare at the cup of tea. Arthur couldn't tell if it was approval.

"You'll do, darling." He grinned, cheekily, and Arthur punched his shoulder good-naturedly, relieved that Eames liked the tea.

"So what are we doing today?" Arthur asked, taking a bite of his toast. Eames had made it exactly how Arthur liked it, remembering that it was his favourite food.

The Brit shrugged. "Whatever you want to see, darling. I collected a few leaflets of things that are popular for tourists. I've seen them all before, so I don't mind whatever you want to do."

He moved over to a drawer and pulled out a handful of leaflets, offering them to Arthur, who took them, flicking through. One of them caught Arthur's eye and he paused, reading the leaflet. Eames leaned over his shoulder to see what had interested him.

"The National Gallery?" Eames asked, surprised. "I never realised you were interested in art?"

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "I'm interested in anything. I collect data, you know that."

Eames conceded the point. "That's very true, darling. Shall we get dressed and away then?"

They showered and dressed, before heading out to make their way to the National Gallery. Eames led them down the street towards the bus stop, explaining that it was forty minutes to the gallery, and it would be cheaper and easier to take public transport, as driving in central London would be a nightmare.

When they entered the museum, Arthur was pleasantly surprised to find that Eames was quite knowledgeable about art, and each painting they encountered, Eames knew something about. And there were a lot of paintings to discuss. Working their way up to the top floor, Arthur encountered numerous works by well-known artists, such as Van Gogh, Michelangelo, Raphael, Rembrandt, Monet and Cézanne. Eames told Arthur little snippets of information about each painting. Finally, they stopped at the painting that had caught Arthur's eye on the leaflet. Da Vinci's Virgin of the Rocks.

Arthur ran his eyes over the painting, admiringly, noting the differences between the version that he'd seen in the Louvre in Paris, and the one in front of his eyes now. The significant use of darker colours on the version that he was looking at, and the absence of the angel's pointing hand.

Eames seemed to read his mind. "You've seen the painting in Paris?"

Arthur nodded. "They're very different. I know that this one was painted after the first, but he seemed to make no effort to make them the same."

Eames hummed in response. "It's generally accepted that Leonardo didn't paint all of this. Oh, most of it was done by his hand, certainly. But there are sections that were painted by his assistants."

Arthur looked at him, enthralled. "How do you know all of this?" He asked, impressed. "Because of your job?"

Eames' smiled faded. "No." He said quietly. "I only need to be able to identify the right paintings for my job."

He strode on ahead, and Arthur stayed where he was, suddenly aware that he had hurt Eames' feelings quite a lot. Regardless of how the Brit sometimes acted, he wasn't actually made of stone, and didn't deserve to be defined by his job. Arthur moved quickly towards Eames, and caught his arm.

"I didn't mean it like that." He spoke firmly. "Eames, I've told you from the beginning, there's more to you than your choice of profession. It was a genuine question and a perfectly reasonable assumption to make. It's like asking if I found out that I like books through working at the library?"

Eames didn't look convinced, and Arthur sighed, wearily. "I'm tired rehashing the same shit with you, Eames. We all have issues, but I'm trying my hardest not to let them interfere with our friendship, but you need to accept that a bad job doesn't make you a bad person. You have serious issues with your self-worth, and you'll never hear me condemn you for it, but this is getting old. I will_ never _judge you because of Cobol. I'm not going to wake up one day and see you differently, and run away screaming. But I'm not going to stand by and let you push me away. I'm sick of constantly walking on eggshells in case I offend you. I'm trying, but it seems like nothing I do is enough and I don't think I have the strength to do this anymore."

Eames blinked and opened his mouth to speak, but Arthur cut him off.

"Just…don't, Eames. Let's just go."

Eames nodded once, and let Arthur back to the bus stop in silence. The forty-minute journey home was silent and awkward; the first occasion things had been strained between Arthur and Eames. Neither of them knew what to say. When they exited the bus, Arthur paused. This tension between them would probably take a while to work through, and Arthur had promised Ari he would call her today. In a few hours, it would be too late.

"I'm going to call Ariadne and go for a walk. I can find my own way back. I won't be long."

Eames snorted, bitterly and Arthur looked up, surprised.

"You've been here not even a day, and you're already calling home to tell Ariadne that this was all a mistake. Why are you even here, Arthur?"

Arthur's jaw dropped. "I… that's really what you think of me?" His mouth closed into a thin line, and his expression twisted into something that was a mixture of hurt and anger. "You tell me why I'm here, Eames, because it seems to me like you want me here just about as much as I want to be around you at the minute."

He spun on his heel and walked away, forcing himself not to shake or show any sort of emotions. A few streets away, Arthur began trembling and leaned against the wall. How had things gone so incredibly wrong? Why had he ever thought this trip was a good idea? He reached for his phone to call Ariadne, but in the end, it wasn't her number that Arthur dialled. He didn't want to have to admit that he'd possibly made a huge mistake.

"Arthur, _mon ami_! It is good to hear from you. And from England! Am I right in thinking you are meeting your illustrious Eames?"

Arthur laughed, sadly. "Yeah, I'm with Eames."

"But my friend! Am I to take it from your tone that things have not gone according to plan?"

"You could say that." Arthur admitted. "You could also say that I screwed up and it's turned into a complete fucking disaster."

Jacques clucked sympathetically. "Tell me all about it, Arthur."

Arthur did so, eventually admitting to Jacques what Eames actually did for a living and how things were slowly turning sour between them because of it. The Frenchman remained silent until Arthur had finished explaining.

"You have yourself in quite the predicament, my friend." Jacques said quietly. "I am saddened that you did not mention his job to me sooner, but I fully understand why. I will not get involved with Mr Eames' line of work, provided it does not cross with my own, but for your sake, my friend, I will keep an eye on him, in case he ever gets into trouble."

"Thank you." Arthur said dully. "I do mean it, I truly am grateful. I just feel pretty low at the minute, and I can't summon any motivation for anything."

Jacques sighed. "How long have you been in love with him, Arthur?"

Arthur couldn't even deny it. "A while." He admitted, miserably. "But what difference does it make in the end? He doesn't feel the same."

"And yet he travelled half way across the word when his life was in danger to see you. That does not seem like the actions of a man who does not care about you greatly. Perhaps you should considering talking to him, _non_?"

Arthur smiled, sadly. "As always, Jacques, you're wise beyond your years. But I don't think talking will get us anywhere at the minute. Maybe when he's had time to calm down."

Jacques wished him luck, and Arthur hung up, feeling only fractionally better than he had before the call. He pocketed his phone and made his way back to the bus stop, feeling a mixture of sorrow and relief that Eames was nowhere in sight. Arthur settled down on the bench, unwilling to go back to Eames' flat, and a little uneasy about heading out alone. If he had any idea of where the sights were, that would be different, but as it was, he didn't have a map or any clue how to navigate around London. His only option was to sit around until a reasonable amount of time had passed. He'd been there about ten minutes when a bus arrived, and Robert alighted.

"Arthur? What are you doing here? Where's Eames?" He asked, worriedly.

Arthur didn't even glance up. "We had words. He basically implied that I'd been waiting for this to fail."

Robert sighed. "And you don't want to go back to the flat."

Arthur shook his head, and his stomach rumbled loudly. Rob's frown deepened at the sound.

"Have you eaten today?"

Arthur shrugged. "Not since breakfast. We didn't have a chance."

Rob sighed. "Come on, there's a nice café only a short bus ride away. I'll take you, that way you don't have to face Eames, that is, if you can bear my company."

Arthur managed a weak laugh. "I'm sure I can cope."

Robert made small talk while they waited for the next bus, but purposely avoided the subject of the argument. Arthur tried his best to reply and come across as amiable, but he struggled, unable to forget the argument.

Eventually, Rob sighed. "Why don't you tell me what happened?"

Arthur explained what had happened for the second time that day, from his passing comment about Eames' knowledge of famous art, to his bitter comment about not wanting to be around Eames, only interrupted when the bus came and they got on. Rob listened quietly.

"So you chewed him out on his lack of self-worth?"

Arthur nodded soberly, as they stepped off the bus. "I know it might seem like hypocrisy, because of the way I interact with people, but I'd consider it an insult to my friends if I was constantly wondering what they saw in me."

Rob nodded distantly, knowing exactly what Arthur meant. They entered the café and took a seat at the back, out of the way. Arthur read through the menu quickly, deciding on a sweet chilli chicken panini and a glass of water, passing on his order to the waitress when she approached. Fischer chose a grilled chicken sandwich with a cup of tea.

When their food arrived, Rob waited until Arthur had taken a bite of his sandwich before he spoke.

"Do you think maybe you're a little hurt by Eames' behaviour because of your feelings for him?"

Arthur inhaled instantly and began choking on the food that lodged itself in his throat. Amused, Fischer pushed Arthur's glass of water towards him, grinning when he snatched it up and drained it. A couple of harsh coughs and a glare later, Arthur was ready to talk.

"Seriously, did you have to wait until I'd started eating? What do you know about my feelings for Eames?"

Fischer grinned. "Only that you're completely smitten. Oh, don't get me wrong, Eames hasn't noticed. But the man probably wouldn't notice unless you walked in with a huge sign that said 'Arthur loves Eames'. He's oblivious."

Arthur sighed. "As long as it stays that way, I'm fine. Seriously, Robert, for a start, I don't even think Eames thinks of me like that. A few months ago, I thought _maybe_, but after today, how can he?"

Rob met Arthur's eyes seriously. "I can't tell you how Eames feels. If I did know, it wouldn't be my place to get involved. But you should honestly pay more attention to how he looks at you when he thinks you can't see."

Arthur fell silent, considering Fischer's words. Was it really possible that Eames looked at Arthur the same way that he looked at Eames? What could that mean for their future?

The opening notes of Fischer's ringtone floated from his pocket, distracting Arthur from his thoughts. Rob reached for his phone and paused.

"It's Eames." He said, his tone guarded, before he answered the call. "Hello?"

Arthur could hear Eames' panicked voice babbling quickly. Fischer's brow initially furrowed as he struggled to make out what Eames was saying, but comprehension dawned after a few seconds.

"Eames, _Eames_, calm down. Arthur's with me. He was in the bus stop when I got home, so we went to get some lunch."

Silence met his words, and Arthur could feel Eames' fury resonate through the phone.

"Where are you?" He said eventually, in a tone so icy, both Robert and Arthur shivered.

"Eames..." Rob began, but Eames cut him off, repeating his question dangerously.

Rob sighed. "Haberdashery Café." The call disconnected and Fischer lowered the phone from his ear. "Eames is on his way. I suggest we pay and wait outside."

Arthur agreed and tried to pay Fischer for his half of the meal, but he wouldn't hear of it.

"Don't be silly, it was the least I could do." Rob waved away the five pound note. He caught a waiter's eye and asked for their bill. Arthur thanked him, and Rob just smiled. When the bill had been paid, they stepped outside onto the street, just as the silver Ford screeched up next to them. The window lowered smoothly to reveal Eames looking at them icily.

"Get in." He ordered. Arthur slid into the front seat at Rob's nod. When Fischer slid into the bank, Eames swung the car around dangerously and sped off back towards the flat.

"You got here quickly. Were you driving while you were on the phone?" Arthur asked, in an attempt to break the silence.

Eames laughed scornfully. "I'm a thief, Arthur. Do you think I care if using the phone while driving is illegal?"

Arthur looked at him. "I was more concerned about your safety, to be honest."

An awkward silence descended on the car, but it didn't last long.

"What the fuck were you both playing at? Were you _trying_ to give me a heart attack? You've been gone nearly two hours, Arthur! You were only supposed to be going for a walk! I didn't know if something had happened to you, or if you'd gone off on your own. You couldn't have sent me a fucking text?"

"I didn't think." Arthur whispered, sheepishly.

Eames snorted. "That much is clear. And _you_," he directed at Rob, furiously. "should have known better than to get involved. What happened to keeping out of the way so as not to make Arthur uncomfortable?"

Rob raised an eyebrow, ironically, and his face twisted angrily. "You know, Eames, it seems to me that the only one making Arthur uncomfortable here is you."

Once more, silence fell, and wasn't broken until they arrived at the flat. When they pulled up, Rob got out of the car silently, but Arthur's hand on Eames' shoulder stopped the Brit from following.

"No. I'm not doing this inside when you have neighbours. Drive us somewhere we can talk about this."

Eames nodded, silently, and started the engine. They drove for about five minutes, pulling into an empty car park. One glance at the Brit told Arthur that he would have to begin.

"What happened to you, Eames? You were so different in LA. Everything you did for me… I could never repay you for, although I thought North Korea was a good start. I thought we were friends. I didn't spend nearly a thousand dollars on a flight for us to fight. I can't pull that kind of money out of my ass; I have to work for it." He sighed, miserably. "When I booked that flight, I didn't expect us to be sitting in a parking lot struggling to even look at each other."

"Don't turn this around on me, you were the one who said all that shit and then wouldn't even let me defend myself!" Eames replied, heatedly.

Arthur frowned. "I don't know about you, but having a full-blown quarrel in the middle of a fucking art gallery is _not_ my idea of a good time. I wanted us to wait until we got back to the flat, and I sensed it would take a while, so I decided to call Ari and tell her I got here safely while it was still a reasonable fucking hour in LA. As it happens, I never ended up speaking to her, because I couldn't face talking to her after you admitted your _glowing _opinion of me."

"Well why the fuck didn't you tell me that? All I knew was that you told me what you thought of me, wouldn't give me a chance to talk back, and then when I thought we were going to go home and sort things out, you fucked off to go and make a phone call. What else was I supposed to think, other than you were going to go and bitch and whine about how big a mistake coming here had been?" Eames snapped.

"How about you fucking trust me?" Arthur yelled back. "How about you give me the benefit of the doubt, like I did for you? You say you trust me, but everything you do or say points to the complete opposite." He turned away, feeling tears prick his eyes. He blinked them away before Eames could see them.

"I _do_ trust you, even more than Yusuf!" Eames cried. "I tell you everything about my jobs, when I leave, everything I agreed to last night… details like that could _kill_ me if Cobol ever found out. I trust you with my life! How much more trust do you want?"

Arthur turned back, shaking his head. "I'm not disputing that you trust me with your life, Eames. But you don't trust me with your heart. If I let you down; if I sold you out to Cobol, can you honestly tell me that there wouldn't be a part of you that expected it? You trust me with the details of your job, but you don't trust that I'll stay, because it's easier to run from Cobol than it is to admit that you were let down by a friend."

Eames turned away, unable to look at Arthur, unable to deny what they both knew to be true. Arthur reached over and took Eames' hand. Eames felt the warmth of the American's touch, and his gaze turned from their entwined hands, to Arthur's face.

"I'm not running, Eames. Nothing you can say will change how important you are to me." The sincerity in Arthur's gaze made Eames' chest ache. His bottom lip trembled and he held Arthur's hand tightly in his own as struggled to regulate his breathing.

"I'm sorry, Arthur. I really am."

Arthur's hands came up to hold Eames' face, and Eames' hands enclosed his wrists, like shackles, the both of them breathing heavily, pressing their foreheads together.

"I'm not going anywhere." Arthur whispered repeatedly, not entirely sure if Eames' could hear him, but hoping that the mantra would bring him some measure of comfort.

When they managed to control themselves, Eames reluctantly pulled away.

"I can't make any promises." Eames mumbled. "But you know I'll try, darling."

Arthur smiled at him. "That's all I need to know." He squeezed Eames' hand. "Now come on. I'm not here forever, and we have to make the most of it. And I think you owe Fischer an apology."

Eames groaned. "Jesus, he is going to be _unbearable _to live with after this."

He turned the key and drove back to the flat. He disappeared upstairs to look for Rob and Arthur sat at the window, looking outside, lost in thought. Eames was wrong; maybe London had gotten off to a bad start, but it was a hurdle they'd overcome together, and that didn't necessarily mean that the visit was a mistake. It just meant that maybe they would have to work harder to make Arthur's stay a lot better than it had begun.

Eames returned downstairs after a few minutes, scratching his head, and water dripping from his face.

"Not a success?" Arthur asked, biting his lip, trying not to laugh.

Eames looked confused. "I'm not actually sure. He told me I was a bitch and flung his glass of water at me, then said I was making dinner for the next week, and to go and make sure things were okay with us."

Arthur let out a chuckle, grinning.

"Are things okay with us?" Eames asked, tentatively. Arthur's grin widened as he turned to the Brit, his eyes soft.

"Always." He promised, and because it felt right, he pressed a quick kiss to Eames' cheek. "So what are we doing for the rest of the day?"

Eames cleared his throat and directed Arthur to his DVD collection. While Arthur was pretending to peruse them, he was watching Eames carefully from his peripheral vision, recalling Fischer's earlier words. The Brit was sporting a dazed expression, but a smile was playing at the corner of his mouth, and his fingers were brushing against the spot where Arthur's lips had met his cheek. A smile slowly spread onto Arthur's face. It didn't necessarily mean that Eames returned his feelings, but it was a good start. And Arthur never dove into anything without a significant amount of research. He was going to have a lot of fun working out Eames' feelings over the next fortnight. And then maybe, just maybe, luck would be on his side, and things would change for the better.

Turning around, with a randomly chosen DVD in his hand, Arthur studied Eames' carefully as he switched on the TV and put on the movie, and couldn't imagine his future without him, or a future shared with anyone else. Eames had infiltrated his life, and Arthur couldn't imagine being without him. The promise he made to Eames was as much for himself as it had been for the Brit.

So when Eames settled onto the sofa next to Arthur and jokingly put an arm around him, Arthur didn't shrug it away, instead choosing to lean in to the touch. Because while a sceptical, yet rational part of him told him that this wouldn't last forever and to make the most of the time they had, the part of Arthur that trusted Eames would never leave him won out. The part that told him that his was where he belonged.

* * *

**Okay, so it was a little more angsty than it was supposed to be, but I hope I made up for it at the end with a little recognition on both sides. Another step in the right direction :) I promise that by the time Arthur leaves London, he'll know exactly how Eames feels.**

**Please review, I treasure each and every one of them! -DD**


	23. Gambling Is Fun When You're With Me

**I'm so sorry for the long time between updates, but my exams are pretty much finished now, and to make up for it, this chapter is quite a bit longer than usual. So now we're back to the weekly updates! Hope you enjoy the chapter! Much love!**

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Two: Gambling Is Fun When You're With Me**

"Did you decide what you wanted to do for your birthday?" Arthur asked, after taking a final bite of his pasta. "You've left it a little late, considering it's tomorrow."

Eames pushed his plate away, nodding. "Yeah. I realised that there was no way I'd get you clubbing unless I pulled the birthday card, so that's what I want to do." He grinned.

Arthur groaned, but nodded. "Fine. On one condition."

Eames raised an eyebrow, curiously. "You have to drink whisky all night."

Eames groaned. "Darling, I promise you, it won't be fun. I'll probably cry and end up draped over you. I can see it now, I'll do something unforgiveable and wake up the next day with you refusing to speak to me, and I won't even be able to remember why."

Arthur pursed his lips. "Whereas I'll be the same no matter what I drink. Come on, Eames, it's only fair."

"Fine." Eames sighed. "The things I do for you, darling. We'll make it a tame night, start off in a casino where I can show you more of my fantastic card tricks, before we hit the clubs."

Arthur stared at him in horror. "Absolutely not! Eames, even _you_ can't cheat in a casino and expect to get away with it?"

Eames grinned and twiddled his poker chip between his fingers. "_Au contraire_, darling. I already have. And I can assure you it's a lot safer to be caught cheating in London than it is in Mombasa. And with your ability to count cards…" He trailed off.

"Out of the question." Arthur stated firmly. "Besides, where's the fun in cheating?"

Eames just grinned, annoyingly. "We'll see, darling."

* * *

The next day, it was Eames' birthday. Arthur awoke first, and found himself cuddled into Eames' chest as usual. Without disturbing him, Arthur tilted his head slightly to watch the thief sleep. He looked quite peaceful, soft dark lashes resting against his cheeks, his plump lips parted slightly, breathing lightly. Arthur felt his breath catch as he looked at the sleeping Brit. Eames was truly beautiful. During the day, he had a rugged handsomeness, the renowned British cheeky charm designated to set everyone at ease, but to anyone that knew Eames as well as Arthur did, they would pick up on the other details. The constantly frown that betrayed his worry and his lack of confidence.

None of that was present when Eames was sleeping. The frown lines on his brow faded away, leaving smooth skin behind. The peaceful serenity of his rest rolled off him in waves, leaving him with a slightly vulnerable look. Arthur had no doubt that he was the only person to see Eames like this in a long time. He would never leave himself susceptible to betrayal; from the scuff marks surrounding the locks on his bedroom door, it was obvious they were used every night. It was a mark of how much he trusted Arthur that they even shared a room, let alone a bed. It was a big deal to Arthur, who had been analysing Eames' every move since Fischer had hinted that maybe Eames returned his feelings. For the last three days, Arthur had been paying careful attention to the way Eames acted around him, the way his eyes had tightened and he'd gripped Arthur's wrist tightly when Arthur had been chopping vegetables and the knife had slipped. It was only a shallow cut, but Eames had gasped and Arthur had been able to read the panic in his face before the Brit had concealed it.

Now he'd opened his mind to the possibility that Eames had feelings for him, Arthur found that there was very little he couldn't glean from Eames' face. So he knew instantly the moment Eames woke, even though his expression didn't change other than a slight tightening around his eyes as the tensing returned.

"Good morning." Arthur greeted, pointedly.

Eames opened an eye. "How did you know I was awake?"

"You frowned." Arthur told him. "You do it every morning, when you're trying to figure out if I'm going to kill you, before you remember it's actually me."

Eames looked abashed. "It's not personal, darling."

Arthur sighed into his chest. "I know. Which is why I'm never offended." He looked up at met the Brit's eyes. "Happy birthday, Eames."

Realisation dawned. "Thank you, darling." He beamed, looking at Arthur softly. Arthur smiled back, before rolling away from him, climbing out of bed. He rummaged in his suitcase and pulled out Eames' gifts, two neatly wrapped and the other done haphazardly.

"That's from Yusuf and Ariadne." He said, handing them to Eames as he sat on the bed. "The other two are from me."

Eames opened his cards first, smiling at the joke inside Yusuf and Ariadne's. He opened the second one, frowning when he didn't recognise the writing on the envelope. Gently tearing open the envelope, he glanced at the generic, impersonal card, with a simple birthday greeting. He opened it carefully, and read the message inside. Slowly, he raised an single eyebrow, meeting Arthur's eyes.

"Dom and Mal?" Eames asked.

Arthur nodded. "They weren't sure of what kind of card to get, but they wanted to get you something. May I?"

Eames held out the card. Arthur took it and read the message inside. It was simple enough, offering him another apology, and wishing him a happy birthday, signed by both Mal and Dom. Arthur handed the card back and waited patiently as Eames opened the last card. Arthur had spent a long time choosing this card, unsure of whether to get him a humour card or something cute. In the end, he'd opted for a mix of the two, and inside, in his flawless script, had poked fun at his age. Eames mock-glared at Arthur when he'd read the message.

"Oi! I'm not that old, you know. You're not _that _much younger than me."

Arthur raised an eyebrow at him and smirked. "You're three years older than me on paper."

"Two and a half." Eames protested. Arthur inclined his head.

"True enough, but as it stands, you're twenty-three and I'm twenty." He pointed out.

Eames grinned. "You love me anyway. Thank you for the card, darling." He leaned over and pressed a brief kiss to Arthur's cheek, noting with delight that the tips of Arthur's ears turned red with embarrassment, while Arthur mentally berated himself for his schoolgirl reaction. He cleared his throat.

"Open your gifts." He ordered.

Eames smirked at him and did as he was told. He opened the badly wrapped present from Yusuf and Ariadne, and found a t-shirt with The Who adorned across the chest and a Paco Rabanne set. Eames' face lit up, pleased with the gift, before reaching for Arthur's. At his prompting, Eames opened the softer present first, finding another t-shirt; this one adorned with Eames' favourite movie, The Good, The Bad, And The Ugly. Eames let out an exclamation of approval, and hopped out of bed, throwing the t-shirt over his head. It was a perfect fit, and Eames spent a few minutes admiring it in the mirror.

"Darling, this is fantastic!" He gaped. "Thank you!"

He opened the other parcel quickly, eager to see what Arthur bought him. Once the wrapping paper had been removed, Eames was left with a plain brown box, which revealed nothing about what might be inside. He lifted the lid, excitedly, and pulled out a brand new BlackBerry phone.

"Oh!" He exclaimed, fascinated. "I've never had a BlackBerry before. How does it work, darling?"

Arthur laughed. "It seems like an odd gift, I know, but it's not actually just a phone. I made some modifications to it." He motioned for Eames to switch it on. "It's untraceable. I thought maybe it might help with the boredom when you're on jobs. And it's pretty useful. I collected a database of all major museums and mansions with art collections, and loaded building plans and security details on it. If you use the search bar at the top there to search for a museum, if there are any details uploaded about that museum, they'll show up first."

Eames nodded, looking amazed.

Arthur paused. "There's also a GPS, which is currently disabled. The security measures we talked about the other day, about giving me an outside time frame. If you agree to carry this, that won't be necessary. Just activate the GPS and I'll know you're in trouble and I'll do what I can."

"How do I activate it?" Eames asked, making no commitment.

Arthur leaned over and took the phone. "With the screen locked, type in a six digit code." He pointed at the keypad. "I've set one, but you can change it if you need to. Would you like to test it?"

Eames nodded; intrigued to see how Arthur had managed it. He waited patiently for Arthur to grab his laptop and log in. When he was logged on, Arthur handed the phone back to Eames, and gestured for him to activate the GPS.

"The passcode is 528491." He stated.

Eames dutifully typed in the code, and as soon as he'd typed in the last number, Arthur's laptop let off a high pitched siren and a world map loaded, zooming instantly to show Eames' exact location. He wondered what its accuracy was.

"It's accurate to five metres." Arthur told Eames, as if he'd read his mind. "The GPS chip detaches, and can be swallowed if necessary, but you need to know that if you swallow it, your stomach acid will dissolve it within twelve hours, so only do it if absolutely necessary. Like if…" He trailed off.

Eames understood what he was trying to say. "Like if I know I'm going to die before you can reach me."

The siren sounded again, but this time it came from Arthur's phone. He reached for it and pressed a few buttons. When he met Eames' eyes, he shrugged.

"I'm not always at my laptop, even if it _is_ always switched on. If it gets sent through to my phone, I'll be able to respond quicker."

Eames moved the phone to one side, and took Arthur's laptop, lowering it to the floor, before pulling his friend into a hug. Arthur wrapped his arms around Eames, pleased with the response to his gifts. He wasn't sure if Eames would like the idea of the phone, but clearly he did. It was as much for Arthur as it was for Eames. He needed to know that Eames was safe and that he at least had options if something went wrong.

"So what are the plans for today?" Arthur asked, as they pulled back. Eames thought for a moment, then grinned.

"Okay, so first I need to make a few phone calls. Then you can show me how to use this wonderful BlackBerry, darling. After that, we grab lunch, and look in a few shops before getting ready to paint London red. Sound like a plan?"

At Arthur's agreement, they took turns showering, and Arthur sat with Eames while he called Yusuf and Ariadne to thank them for the gifts. At Eames' request, Arthur also sent a text to Dom and Mal to thank them for the card. After that, Eames started fidgeting, as if there was something he needed to do, but wasn't sure how to broach the subject. Arthur waited patiently for him to summon the courage to get his words out.

"Arthur," Eames began tentatively. "How would you like to meet my mum?"

Arthur blinked. "Your _mom_? I thought you hadn't spoken to her in years?"

Eames shrugged, awkwardly. "I call her on special occasions, but I was away for most of them last year. So it's been around two years since I last spoke to her."

Arthur nodded, understanding. "If you want me to meet her, I'm happy to. Just as long as you know I can't promise how it's going to go. You know I'm not good with meeting people."

Eames took his hand. "Trust me." He said.

Arthur nodded. He did.

Eames switched on his laptop and logged into Skype. Sure enough, his mother was online. He hovered over her name for a few minutes, and then pressed the button to video call her. Arthur stood away from the camera. Contrary to what Eames had said, if they hadn't spoken in two years, his mom would want time alone with her son.

The call connected, and Arthur saw the reflection of the screen in Eames' eyes.

"Hello, mum." Eames said, softly.

A muffled sob echoed around the room, quickly stifled. Arthur admired the woman's strength. "It's good to see you, son. Happy birthday."

Arthur couldn't help but notice her accent was a lot stronger than Eames'.

"Thanks, mum." Eames grinned. "It's good to see you too. How have you been? And Daniel?"

"He misses you." She told him. "He's still in bed, but he'll want to speak to you, if you have time."

Eames smiled. "I'm in no rush. Mum, there's someone I want you to meet." He gestured for Arthur to come and sit next to him. "This is my friend, Arthur."

"Pleasure to meet you, Mrs Eames." Arthur said quietly. Eames' mum looked a lot like him, with short, cropped hair that matched Eames' in colour. The first thing he'd noticed, however, was that her eyes were exactly the same shade of grey as her son.

"Nice to meet you too, Arthur." She smiled, before turning to her son. "Eames! Another American friend?"

Eames laughed, and ducked his head, shyly. "Arthur knows Yusuf. They through Yusuf's girlfriend, Ariadne."

She hummed. "Ahh, so Yusuf introduced you, too?"

Eames looked at Arthur, who cleared his throat.

"Not exactly." Arthur admitted. "I major in Sociology and one of the class assignments was to send a message to a stranger on a social networking site, and see how many of us received a response. I found Eames through Yusuf, and chose him. Initially, the plan was to complete the assignment, and that was that, but when we started talking, things changed, and he became a good friend."

Eames beamed at him, and Arthur smiled back at him. Eames' mother smiled to herself as she realised exactly why Eames had wanted her to meet Arthur. She was proud of her son, and even though the decision to become a thief was not one she would have made for him, she'd always known Eames was never the type to abide by any rules. He was too much like his father in that respect. Still, it warmed her heart that Eames had managed to find love in a profession that should have meant he would live his life alone.

They chatted a little more and Arthur found he liked Eames' mother quite a lot. When Eames' little brother Daniel came downstairs and saw Eames, Arthur made a hasty exit. It was clear Eames missed his brother a hell of a lot, and as soon as he saw a hint of tears, he made an excuse to give them some privacy.

He headed down into the kitchen to make a cup of coffee, and found Robert there, munching on a bowl of cereal.

"Morning." Arthur greeted, reaching for the cups. Fischer nodded at him.

"Eames still asleep?" He asked.

Arthur shook his head. "He's talking to his little brother on Skype."

Rob nodded and took a sip of his coffee. "What are your plans for tonight?"

Arthur pulled a face and told him about Eames' insistence that they go clubbing. "It's not even that I mind going clubbing, it's that I know he's going to make sure I get drunk. I've only been drunk once, and that was when he came to LA. The hangover was enough of a deterrent. Although on the plus side, we'll probably not even make it that far, when we get _arrested _for cheating in a casino."

Fischer laughed. "It sounds like a fun night. I wouldn't worry too much, if Eames can get away with whatever it is he does for a living, cheating in a casino should be a walk in the park for him. And just make sure you drink slowly, and make sure you get a pizza when you're leaving, and you'll be fine. The food will soak up the excess alcohol." He clarified at Arthur's puzzled look. "Arthur, stop worrying. Eames will look after you."

Arthur nodded, knowing Robert was right. Eames would make sure Arthur was fine. He stirred his coffee and Eames' tea and picked up the cups, ready to head back upstairs, when he heard Eames coming down.

He paused as Eames entered the room, and extended his arm, offering Eames the tea.

"Thank you, darling." Eames smiled and took the tea. "Ahh, Danny's a great kid. Morning, Rob."

"Morning, Eames. Happy birthday. I've got your present upstairs, I'll give you it tonight, I have to rush out in a minute."

"Cheers mate." Eames smiled. "We better get ready ourselves, darling, if we're going out for lunch. Catch you later." He directed at Rob, who waved back lazily.

They had a nice lunch at an Italian restaurant in central London, and spent the afternoon testing the functions of Eames' new phone. When they were ready to head out, Arthur ensured he took a sneaky glance at what Eames was pulling out of his wardrobe to wear. While the forger seemed to dress more or less reasonable around Arthur, just in casual jeans and t-shirts, Arthur had spied some hideous monstrosities in the form of dress shirts. So when Eames pulled out a smart white dress shirt, Arthur was stunned.

"Eames? Why do you have all those horrific shirts when you seem to dress nicely? You complained about the uniform you had to wear when you were working at that storage facility, but some of those shirts are a hell of a lot worse."

Eames laughed loudly. "Those shirts were my dad's. I use them for when I'm on jobs. People tend to pay less attention to the tourist wearing a horrible shirt, because who would draw attention to themselves if they were planning to rob the place later?"

Arthur nodded, slowly. "Your dad had bad taste in shirts." He paused. "You've never mentioned your dad before."

Eames shrugged. "Not much to mention. He was a thief, like me, but what he stole, he took from people who couldn't afford to lose anything. When I was twelve, he was arrested. He got out last year, but I haven't seen him. Neither has my mum or Danny. He's not a part of my life."

"I'm sorry." Arthur said, genuinely regretful that he'd brought it up on Eames' birthday.

"Don't be. I'm not upset; it's something I accepted long ago. And like you said, I've never mentioned him before, so how were you to know?"

Arthur shrugged, and allowed Eames to change the subject as he changed into a black shirt and dark jeans. As always, England was still freezing, and the jacket Arthur had brought was too thick to go clubbing in. Eames noticed the issue, and flung open his wardrobe, searching each hanger.

"Aha!" He exclaimed, pulling out a leather jacket, which he pressed into Arthur's hands. Arthur looked at it, mouth dry, trying to work out the best way to broach the fact that he'd rather see it on Eames.

"What's the matter, darling? Don't you like leather jackets?" Eames asked, uncertainly. Arthur glanced up and swallowed hard as he realised Eames was wearing a leather jacket of his own. Arthur had never been more attracted to someone in his life. Eames cocked his head and looked puzzled. It took Arthur's brain a few seconds to realise that Eames was still waiting for an answer.

"Oh, no, it's fine. I like leather jackets." He smiled and slid the jacket on. His breath hitched and his heart stopped as Eames walked over to him. Their faces were only a few inches apart, and Arthur could easily have closed the gap, but he hesitated, wanting to know why Eames had approached him. With a soft look on his face, Eames reached up and folded over the collar of Arthur's leather jacket, and smoothed it down. Arthur was close enough to see every shade of grey in Eames' eyes.

Eames released his grip on Arthur's collar, and brushed a few runaway strands of hair from his forehead, never once breaking the eye contact. The atmosphere was fragile between them; one small action could make it snap. Arthur was too terrified to move. He wasn't sure if this was the best course of action; if they kissed now, before he knew they were both on the same page, it could change everything and Arthur would be stuck for the rest of his visit in the most awkward situation possible. At the same time, he didn't want to give off the wrong impression, and couldn't bring himself to move away.

Eames' phone pinged, and Eames stepped back to pick it up, but kept his eyes fixed on Arthur's, until he'd opened the text.

"Our taxi is outside." He said quietly. They'd booked it earlier, to ensure it would be there by the time they'd finished getting ready. He waved Arthur away. "Do you have your ID? I'll follow you down."

Arthur moved away slowly, unsure of what had just happened, but unwilling to intrude if Eames wanted him to wait in the taxi.

"Hang on a minute, please." He told the driver. "My friend's coming now."

He slid into the back seat and Eames joined them within a couple of minutes, giving the name of the casino. Arthur didn't ask why he'd hung back, uncertain of whether or not asking would cross a line. He had never asked something that Eames wasn't willing to share, and he wasn't about to start now.

A sweet, woody scent met his nostrils, and he looked around, surprised. He sniffed again, leaning closer to Eames.

"What's that smell?" He asked. "Is that you?"

He leaned over properly and inhaled Eames' neck, sighing when the smell became stronger. Eames shoved him away, smiling.

"That tickles." He rubbed his neck, embarrassed. "Yeah, I tried that stuff that Yusuf and Ariadne bought me."

"The Paco Rabanne cologne? It smells really good. I like it." Arthur told him, grinning as he realised what Eames had been doing when Arthur had gone to hold the taxi.

They arrived at the casino, and Eames paid the taxi with the agreement that Arthur would buy the first round of drinks. The doormen nodded to Eames on the way in, obviously recognising him, and let Arthur past without a second glance.

"You come here often?" Arthur asked.

Eames shrugged. "Every now and again. It's easier to rotate, or people wonder how you can win so much."

They headed to the bar, and Arthur bought them both a drink, a vodka and coke for himself, and for Eames a whisky.

Eames looked at it, sighing. "You couldn't have started me off slower, darling?" He threw the whisky back and signalled for another. Arthur bit his lip, worried he'd done something wrong. He didn't know too much about drinking. He took a large gulp of his drink, silently, feeling useless. Eames glanced at him, and realised he'd said something wrong.

"I mean, seriously, darling, you're going to have to carry me home as it is." He grinned. Arthur managed a weak smile.

"Aren't you having fun?" Eames asked, seriously. "If you really didn't want to come, you could have said so, I wouldn't have minded. We can go if you like."

"I'm fine." Arthur told him, smiling. "What did you want to play first?"

Eames chose the poker tables and they downed their drinks and got another one each before heading over. Arthur chose to sit out, instead just watching Eames. He knew how to play, but he didn't have a particularly good poker face. He much preferred watching Eames, but took care not to watch his cards in case he gave them away. Instead, he inspected him carefully, looking for his 'tell'. Everyone had a tell, something which gave away when they were bluffing. But no matter how hard Arthur looked, he couldn't find it. Eames walked away from the game after about forty minutes, having doubled his money. During that time, they'd had another four drinks each. Arthur was beginning to feel a little unsteady, but Eames seemed unaffected.

At Arthur's request, they got another drink and moved to the blackjack table. Arthur began playing this time, betting cautiously. After another two drinks, his certainty that he wouldn't count cards began to slip and he started to remember which cards had been dealt. Refusing to use the knowledge to cheat, Arthur played fairly, staking a large amount on the next hand, to which he was overjoyed to find that he'd been dealt twenty one.

"Well done, darling." Eames murmured, smiling. He motioned that he was out and moved to stand behind Arthur. "That's a hundred pounds you've just won. Not an amount to be sneezed at."

"I know." Arthur sighed, shaking his head. "It was pretty lucky."

Eames raised an eyebrow. "So your choice is to take it and walk away, or to bet it again, although I wouldn't count on a lucky hand like that again. I'm going to head over to the craps table. I'll meet you back here in a few minutes."

Arthur nodded, and Eames walked away.

"Sir?" The dealer asked him. "Another hand?"

Arthur made a quick decision. "Alright."

He pushed half chips forward, and waited for the cards. To his surprise, he was dealt two aces, and the dealer had an eight. His mind raced furiously, and he calculated that the next two cards in the pack were tens. He'd won.

"Split." He ordered, and the dealer split the deck as Arthur pushed the rest of his chips forward, half on each card. When the two cards were dealt, and revealed to be tens, Arthur let out a gasp and cheer that drew Eames' attention.

"Congratulations, sir." The dealer smiled at him and slid his winnings across the table. Arthur thanked him and took the chips, standing up just as Eames reached him.

"What do you say we head to a club now?" Eames grinned. "Drinks are on you tonight, darling."

"They already were, birthday boy." Arthur teased, and moved away to cash in the chips. He paused. "Do I need to keep one of the chips?" He asked.

Eames shook his head. "Nah, not when they're worth fifty pounds each. The one I carry is only worth one Kenyan shilling. That's about a penny over here."

When Arthur received his winnings, they left the casino.

"There's a club down the street here, we can walk." Eames told him. "So, darling, tell me. Did you double your money fairly?"

"I was dealt two aces, so I split. I'd been keeping track of the cards all night, but up until the last hand, I made sure I was playing fairly, but I couldn't help it in that last round. I knew that the two tens were at the top of the pile." He admitted. "But I'm pretty sure it was that last vodka that made me."

Eames grinned at him. "Darling, I have never been so impressed or so proud of you. Here. I got you something."

He handed a small red die to Arthur, who took it, looking up at Eames questioningly.

"It's loaded." Eames told him. "Depending on how you throw it, it will land on a different number. You can make your own luck."

Arthur peered at the dice, excitedly, before pocketing it, thanking Eames. The thrill of cheating in a casino still hadn't worn off. He was beginning to understand why Eames lived the way he did, and Arthur wanted to be part of it.

They entered the club, instantly deafened by the volume of the music. They made their way to a free booth and sat down. Arthur tried to convey to Eames that he was going to the bar, having to resort to gesturing wildly towards the bar to get his point across. Eames nodded and motioned that he would keep their seats.

Winding his way to the bar, Arthur judged how busy the club was. It was still quite early, and the chances were it was going to get a whole lot busier, so he ordered four drinks, so there would be a larger gap before he had to head up to the bar again. Someone settled in next to him and he looked up to see a man in his early thirties smiling down at Arthur.

"I've never seen you before." He nodded to Arthur, who just managed to hear him over the music.

"I'm American." Arthur replied, paying for the drinks. "I'm only here for a couple of weeks."

The man nodded. "I'm Josh." He offered his hand.

"Arthur." He replied, taking the proffered hand and shaking it.

Josh looked at him, scrutinisingly. "You want to get out of here, Arthur?"

Arthur shook his head, realisation dawning that the stranger was coming on to him. "I can't, I'm here with a friend."

In actuality, he didn't want to go anywhere with Josh. Not only was Arthur at least ten years younger than him, he wasn't interested in a one night stand, and he was in love with Eames. There was no way that he would just ditch Eames in a bar for some stranger.

"Ditch him?" Josh suggested, oblivious to Arthur's discomfort.

A hand with a biting grip lowered on to Arthur's shoulders.

"I don't think so, mate." Eames said icily. "He's not going anywhere with you."

Arthur felt his blood run cold. There was no way Eames would agree to be reasonable about something like this. From what he must have seen, it looked pretty bad on Arthur.

"I wasn't asking you, I asked him." Josh's words were pleasant enough, but his tone left something to be desired. "Arthur?"

Arthur shook his head, looking at the floor.

Josh laughed, scornfully. "Well, if you ever ditch your keeper, you know where to find me."

He melted away into the crowd. Arthur picked up the drinks and followed Eames, who was stalking back across the dance floor to their booth. He slid in the seat next to him.

"Eames, that wasn't what it looked like." Arthur promised him. Eames took one of the drinks and downed it, followed by the next, only pausing to shoot Arthur a disbelieving glare. Arthur looked at him in disgust and followed suit, downing the drinks and then standing up and walking out of the club. He didn't even need to look back to know Eames wasn't following him.

Arthur hailed a taxi and gave the address of the flat, staring miserably out of the window for the entire ride, fighting back tears. Eames hadn't even given him the chance to explain, he hadn't wanted to go anywhere with Josh. The only person Arthur wanted wouldn't even give him the time of day. He bit back a sob. Fischer had been wrong. How could anyone possibly think that Eames would care about him?

He paid the taxi driver before he realised that he didn't actually have keys, and he didn't want to get Rob out of bed because that would involve being in the flat when Eames got home. He wandered away from the flat, heading down the street to where he knew there was a takeaway. With any luck, they would still be open.

He was in luck. Heading inside, Arthur bought a pizza and within fifteen minutes, he was sitting on the wall outside, eating it. He'd eaten two slices when a taxi pulled up next to him and Eames jumped out, looking more furious than Arthur had ever seen him.

"I'll walk from here, mate." He slipped the driver a twenty and didn't wait for change, just stormed up to Arthur and grabbed his arm.

"What the fuck are you playing at?" He yelled. "Do you have _any idea_ how worried I've been?"

Arthur looked at him, sullenly. "You didn't look like you gave a shit to me." He snapped.

"Oh_, grow up_, Arthur! I didn't like that you were about to drop me for the first bloke that spoke you in a bar, so you decided to take a huff and fucking get into a taxi without telling me where you were going! I looked everywhere for you! I must've called you about fifty times."

Arthur stopped at that and reached for his phone. He had twenty seven missed calls. Oops.

"It was on silent." He whispered. "Jesus, I'm sorry, Eames. I didn't even think you would be looking, I thought it would be obvious I would go home."

Eames glared at him. "I'm not doing this in the street." He sighed. "Come on, let's get inside."

Arthur offered him a slice of pizza, tentatively. For a moment, Eames looked like he would refuse, and then accepted it, grudgingly.

"Thanks." He grunted and bit into it.

When they arrived at the flat, Eames let them in and Arthur headed for the stairs. Eames stopped him with a firm hand on his shoulder, leading him back towards the kitchen.

"I don't think so. We're going to talk about this reasonably." Eames stated, firmly.

Arthur snorted. "You mean like you were reasonable in the club?" He snapped. "You just assumed I was going to fucking ditch you, to go home with someone I'd literally _just_ met. Thanks for that, by the way, it's lovely to know how little you think of me."

Eames looked like he'd had the wind knocked out of his sails. "You mean you weren't going to go home with him?"

"Jesus Christ, Eames, of course I fucking wasn't!" Arthur shouted, angrily. "Can you even fucking remember Nash and what I mess I am? And even if that wasn't the case, it's your birthday! As if I'm that sort of friend, who could do something like that. Or even that sort of person, who just picks up people in a fucking _bar_!"

Eames realised his mistake and reached for Arthur's hand, flinching when Arthur moved away. He felt like a complete bastard.

"Darling… Arthur, I'm so sorry." He pleaded. "I didn't mean to imply anything like that, I … I thought you were going to leave me sitting there and I just lost it."

"Is it always going to be like this with you?" Arthur whispered. "Are you never going to trust that I'm here for you, that I _care _for you with everything that I am?"

Eames reached for his hands again and this time Arthur didn't pull away. "I'm trying, darling, I am. Please, just give me one more chance to prove how much this means to me. How much _you_ mean to me."

Arthur shook his head to clear his thoughts, and Eames understood that it wasn't at his request, but he needed to do something to ensure that Arthur understood his importance. He knelt down in front of him and brushed a strand of hair out of Arthur's eyes. Arthur's head came up slowly, and his hand moved up to hold Eames' against his head.

Eames felt his breath catch as Arthur lowered his head. Surely he was misreading the signs? Arthur stopped, his eyes searching Eames' face. Whatever he was looking for, he must have found it, because a few seconds later, he closed the gap, tentatively pressing his lips against Eames'.

Eames' eyes fluttered shut and he placed his hand on Arthur's shoulder, leaning into the soft kiss. Slowly, he felt Arthur's tongue swipe against his bottom lip, and he parted his lips to allow access. He moved to entwine his fingers with Arthur's as the heat of their mouths mashed together sent a jolt of desire straight to his groin. The innocent touch of their hands reminded Eames that this was not about lust, or getting off. This was about love, and trust, and promises. It was about undoing the mistakes of the night.

Neither of them made a move to increase the pace, happy with the slow, lazy exploring of each other's tongues. Neither of them could really believe that his was happening at last, and while their evening had left something to be desired, neither of them could have been happier about how things had turned out.

* * *

**Yay! They eventually kissed! Don't expect happiness and fluff and bunnies yet though! The next chapter will be Arthur leaving to go home to Los Angeles :(**

**Please review! They all mean so much to me! -DD**


	24. If There's A Future, We Want It Now

**Okay, so I'm uploading MUCH sooner than expected, simply because I've managed to finish the chapter earlier than I had thought. Now my exams are over, I have a lot of free time, so I'll be cranking out the chapters while I can.**

* * *

**Chapter Twenty Three: If There's A Future, We Want It Now**

For the rest of Arthur's time in London, the subject of their drunken kiss was avoided. Both of them realised that it was a line they should not have crossed, without being absolutely certain of each other's feelings. On the outside, things seemed normal; they managed to get through the remaining twelve days without any awkwardness, but there were subtle differences. Arthur didn't unconsciously seek Eames out in his sleep, and they spent their nights on opposite sides of the bed. There were no casual touches, and the subject of Eames' birthday was avoided at all costs. The effects of this were a deep sense of loss that neither of them could put a finger on, and a shadow over the remainder of the trip.

Both Eames and Arthur spent most of their days making a decision on whether or not to confess their feelings. Arthur spent hours, deliberating whether or not it needed to be said, if there was any point in admitting how he felt. Things were unlikely to change. Eames had some serious issues with his self-worth, and even if they managed to work past that, there was still Cobol.

On the morning that Arthur was due to leave London, he came to a decision. He would come clean about his feelings for Eames before he left. But between last minute packing and sleeping in, Arthur just couldn't find the opportunity. Eames drove them to the airport in silence, and Arthur could tell that it was not the time to declare his love for the Brit. Tensions were high, because Arthur was leaving, and Eames was already severely distracted and hardly paying attention to the roads. Against all odds, they made it to the airport in one piece.

Eames helped Arthur with his suitcase, carrying it for him to the check in desk. Arthur couldn't understand him. He was polite, well-manners, handsome, funny, charming… the list was endless. So why couldn't Eames see what Arthur himself saw? That a person was not defined by their profession, but by the choices they made, and how they interacted with the people around them. From twelve months of friendship, Arthur had been able to understand that there would never be a better friend to have than Eames. He shook his head, and moved forward to the desk with his passport in hand.

When he moved away, Eames was standing awkwardly, waiting for him. Arthur walked up to him, slowly.

"I feel like this is déjà vu, only we've swapped places." He smiled. Eames let out a chuckle.

"Quite right, darling. Only it's a lot harder to let you go than it is to leave." He replied, sadly. "I'm used to you being around."

Arthur smiled. "Well, it's your turn to visit, so don't leave it too long. I graduate in July, if you could make it for that?"

Eames nodded. "I'll do what I can, but you know I can't promise anything."

Arthur reached out and pulled him into a fierce hug that surprised both of them. He inhaled deeply, memorising Eames' scent, the way Arthur fit so well into his arms. He committed it all to memory, knowing that his next words could potentially change everything.

He pulled back, and held Eames' hands in his own. "Eames, listen, I have to tell you something before I go."

Eames glanced up, quickly, wondering if Arthur was going to say the words he hadn't been able to. He opened his mouth to tell Arthur to continue, but his phone buzzed loudly in his pocket. Frowning, he reached for it, intending to silence it, when he noticed the call was from an anonymous number.

"It's Cobol." He said apologetically. "I have to take this. I'll be as quick as I can."

He moved a few steps away to answer the phone, leaving Arthur standing alone, watching him sadly, but Eames seemingly didn't notice, too wrapped up in the phone call.

"Where? Yes, right. I'll work on it. Right." He hung up and returned to Arthur, who was looking at the BlackBerry, sadly.

"Another job?" Arthur asked, casually, tilting his head.

Eames nodded. "Yeah, got to work on some blueprints, then I'm flying out to Mexico in a month or two. Just have to check out the security plans."

"There might be something about it on your phone." Arthur gestured to Eames' pocket, where he had just stored away the device. "I think there were a few museums in Mexico I looked at."

"Thanks, darling." Eames grinned. "So, what were you going to say?"

Arthur looked at him for a few minutes. Eames had taken the job before he'd even got out of the country. He had no doubt that if Cobol had called a few days ago, Arthur wouldn't have even seen Eames for plans and paintings. Looking at the boyish excitement that shone on Eames' face, Arthur realised that he and Eames would never work. Cobol would always come first for Eames, and Arthur could barely handle it as a friend, never mind as a lover. He could look past Eames' job and see him for the amazing person he was, but he couldn't excuse a job that would constantly hinder their relationship. There was just no way around it; Arthur would have to let his feelings go.

"It wasn't important." He said at last, and the words echoed between them. "I just wanted to say how much I've enjoyed being here with you."

"Me too, Arthur." Eames replied, sincerely. "July, yeah?"

"Yeah." Arthur said, flatly. He glanced up at the board. "I better go. Don't want to miss my flight."

Eames paused, uncertainly, as Arthur began to back away. "Don't I even get a hug?" He asked, hurt.

Arthur moved forward again and allowed himself to be wrapped into a hug. He closed his eyes and let the feelings of love and affection overwhelm him, allowing himself to pretend for one moment that things were different. Then the embrace ended, and Arthur opened his eyes, returning to reality.

"I'll see you soon." He forced a smile.

Eames nodded. A promise. "Call me when you land."

Arthur nodded and spun on his heel, walking towards the departure lounge. He pretended he couldn't feel Eames' eyes burning into him as he walked away, and he didn't look back.

* * *

Eames couldn't quite remember how he got home from the airport, or how he managed to avoid crashing the car when he was clearly in a daze. But everything that happened from that point changed everything. He parked the silver Ford outside the flat and let himself in. He poured himself a whisky from the bottle in his cupboard, and settled down on the sofa. Before he could even take a sip, the glass was snatched from his hand to be replaced by another, containing a clear liquid. He glanced up in confusion to find Rob frowning at him, disapprovingly.

"No." He said firmly. "You want to drink yourself into oblivion, that's your choice, but the last time you had a skinful of whisky, you were crying on my knee all night. You want to get pissed; you do it on vodka or something that doesn't turn you into a complete douche."

Eames downed the clear liquid and didn't bat an eyelid at the burn in his throat. He didn't speak, but Rob wasn't about to let him stew in silence.

"So I assume that kiss didn't change anything then?" He asked, conversationally. Eames almost dropped the glass in surprise.

"How the fuck do you know about that?" He frowned.

Rob raised an eyebrow, looking severely unimpressed. "You came in screaming at each other, did you seriously think I wouldn't come downstairs to ensure you didn't kill each other? In my defence, you were already locked at the lips when I walked in, and I left immediately. Obviously, neither of you noticed I was there. So anyway, nothing changed?"

"No." Eames sighed. "No, nothing changed."

"It was a good kiss, though?" Rob grinned at him. "It sure looked like you were both enjoying yourself."

"It was a bloody brilliant kiss. It was _Arthur_." Eames looked at Rob like he'd said something completely ridiculous."

Robert chuckled. "You know, if I ever doubted your feelings for him, that dreamy look you're sporting at the minute would wash them away." He sighed. "Eames, why didn't you tell him how you feel?"

Eames stood up, grabbing his glass and pouring another drink, but he stuck to the vodka, Rob noted gratefully.

"I wanted to." Eames admitted, desperately. "Christ, Rob, I really wanted to. But I just couldn't. I'm not sure he feels the same way I do. For a moment in the airport, he looked like he was going to say something, but then I got a phone call, and when I came back, he just said he'd enjoyed being in London. If the kiss had changed anything for him, he would have said so, right? I just… I've never seen anything to show that the kiss was more than just a drunken mistake to him."

Rob sighed, beginning to lose patience with his flatmate's obvious blindness. "You know, I think you need to talk to Yusuf. He knows you both, so his position would be more impartial. So put that fucking drink down and Skype him! That vodka isn't going to do you any good."

Eames grudgingly did as he was told, recognising that if he wanted any chance of a relationship with Arthur, he had to take some sort of action. So he dragged himself upstairs to his laptop. It was still extremely late in Los Angeles, but Yusuf worked all hours of the night, so there was a possibility that he would be awake. Eames logged into Skype, and spotted that Yusuf was online. Relieved, Eames hit the button to video call the chemist.

The call was picked up instantly, but not by Yusuf.

"Ariadne?" Eames asked, surprised. "What are you doing up?"

Ariadne smiled and waved at him. "Hey, Eames, I'm working on my final assignment. Arthur might have finished, but the rest of us still have a lot to do. Yusuf let me use his laptop while he's in the lab working on something or other. I don't know, he doesn't tell me about his work."

Eames nodded. "To be honest, he only tells me because he knows I won't understand it." He laughed.

"Arthur will have left by now, huh?" Ariadne asked. Eames nodded.

"Just got home from the airport now." He fell silent. If Yusuf was working, there was no way Eames would be able to get him away from the lab in order to talk.

"Was something up?" Ariadne asked, hesitantly. "I can get Yusuf if you need him."

Eames shook his head. "It wasn't important."

The words resounded in his head and he realised he was echoing Arthur. Goddamnit, this _was_ important. Ariadne knew Arthur better than anyone else, except perhaps Dom. Eames could talk to her about it.

"I just really think I've got things all mixed up with Arthur." He admitted.

Ariadne sighed, unable to believe how blind they both were to each other's feelings. "Take Arthur's approach. Be blunt. In fact, just be honest. You and I both know how you feel about him, and I've seen how he looks at you. You should tell him."

Eames sighed, impatiently. "It's not as simple as that, Ariadne. If I did tell him, and if by some miracle he felt the same, what sort of relationship could we have? I won't give up my job, and the way things are with my employers, it's too unpredictable, too dangerous for him."

Ariadne frowned, disapprovingly. "You're being selfish." She said reproachfully. "Arthur would want to know how you feel about him."

"But why?" Eames argued. "Why tell him, when nothing can come of it, except to make him look at me differently? I love him, and I love what I have with him. I don't want to risk losing that."

She sighed."You know, Yusuf told me you'd say that. Arthur deserves more than a coward, but I don't even think that's it. You're so adamant that you can't have any relationship with him, but I think the only person you're trying to convince is yourself. You've got such a low self-esteem, you can't understand why Arthur would care about you, and so you refuse to admit that you might be wrong. Seriously, Eames, tell me something. This low opinion you have of yourself. Has it interfered with your friendship with Arthur at all?"

Silence met her words, and she had her answer. "Then maybe it's time to do something about it, because unless you can start to see what Arthur sees in you, you're going to lose him."

She disconnected the call, leaving Eames to think about her words. She was right, about everything. Arthur deserved a hell of a lot more than a coward. And Eames couldn't see what Arthur saw in him at all. He moved over to the mirror and looked at himself long and hard. Fairly good looking, with what some might consider a cheeky grin. He was funny; Eames had always prided himself on his sense of humour. He looked harder. He tried to be a nice person. He never hurt anyone if he could avoid it; he wasn't like his dad, he only stole from those who could afford to spare it, like museums or rich private art collectors. As he stared at his reflection, piece by piece it all fell into place. What everyone thought of him. The good Arthur saw in him.

"Eventually." Rob said from the doorway, having been watching his transition. "Now you have a decision to make. Now you've seen what he sees in you, you have to decide whether the relationship is worth the risk. Let me know how it goes."

Eames glanced back at his reflection. There was never any question of Arthur not being worth the risk. As long as Arthur himself understood the way things stood, there was no longer a reason that Eames couldn't tell him how he felt, even if it meant finding out that Arthur didn't feel the same.

* * *

When Arthur landed back in LA, he hailed a taxi. Normally, he would have taken public transport in an attempt to avoid the unnecessary expense, but he was tired, depressed and wanted nothing more than to get home and into bed as quickly as possible. He knew Ariadne would be upset that he hadn't called her to pick him up, when she'd so kindly offered, but he was in no mood for company. All he wanted to do was sleep off the jetlag.

It was closer to eight o'clock in the evening when Arthur finally crawled into bed, having unpacked and eaten. Miserably, he curled up into a ball under the covers, and let a few tears fall. He imagined sleep would be a long time coming, but in actuality, he fell asleep within twenty minutes of his head hitting the pillow.

He slept right through until midday on Wednesday, having had a total of sixteen hours sleep. He reached for his phone when he awoke, and fired off three texts, one to Yusuf, one to Ariadne, and one to Dom, letting them all know he'd gotten home safely and apologised for not getting in touch sooner. They all replied immediately, asking how the trip had gone. Arthur thought for a moment, trying to find a suitable reply that didn't give away too much about how he was feeling.

**12.03pm Arthur**

**London is fantastic, there's so much to see and do. I'd definitely go back.**

He figured that summing up London would be enough to stop his friends asking potentially awkward questions about how things had gone with Eames. Sure enough, his friends seemed satisfied with his response, and didn't mention the Brit. Arthur sighed and sent another text, this time to Eames.

**12.11pm Arthur**

**I got back okay, I went to bed straight away so sorry I didn't text sooner. How are things in London? xxx**

He slid his phone onto the table and headed to make himself some lunch. When he came back, he checked his phone, but there had been no reply. Arthur frowned. Eames _always_ had his phone with him; he never ignored a text or a call, unless he was on a job. Arthur pushed his plate away, his appetite having suddenly disappeared. Maybe Eames had been more perceptive than he'd given him credit, and was hurt by Arthur's change of heart.

He sighed, and reached for his phone, to call Ariadne. She picked up immediately.

"Arthur! Great to hear from you! How are things? Tell me everything!" She gushed.

Arthur laughed, feeling a lot better for hearing her voice. Ariadne never failed to cheer him up, and that was exactly what he needed. "I promise I'll tell you every little detail, over dinner tonight?"

Silence met his words. "Tonight?" Ariadne asked, tentatively, after a few minutes. "I can't do tonight, Yusuf and I have something planned."

Arthur blinked. "Oh, that's cool. I'll see if Dom is free. Tomorrow then?"

"Um, I spoke to Dom earlier, Mal has an appointment with that specialist tonight, so I don't think he's free. Listen, Arthur I have to go. Call me tomorrow if you still want to do something."

She hung up. Arthur frowned at his phone, stunned and hurt. It wasn't that he expected Ariadne to cancel her plans or anything, but she usually tried her hardest to make time for him when he needed her, and even when it wasn't possible, she usually gave him an explanation. He wondered if he'd upset Ariadne, if he hadn't called her enough when he was in London, if she'd felt like he'd blown her off for Eames. He opened up a text.

**12.37pm Arthur**

**Have I upset you somehow? Whatever I've done, I promise it wasn't my intention to do so. Enjoy your evening.**

Within a few minutes, his phone rang. He picked it up, immediately.

"Hello?" He said, wearily.

"Oh, _Arthur_." Ariadne sounded close to tears. "I didn't mean to make you think I was angry with you, I'm really not. I do have plans with Yusuf; he's helping me work on my final assignment."

"Oh." Arthur said. "It was just… you seem like you don't want me there?"

"You know I do, Arthur. You're my best friend, you know that. But I promise I'll explain everything tomorrow."

Arthur was confused, but he trusted Ariadne with all of his heart. "Tomorrow then." He agreed. "I'll see you for lunch tomorrow?"

"I'll keep it free." She promised. "But just remember that I don't mind if you cancel. Call me tomorrow!" She hung up again, before Arthur could say goodbye.

Arthur sighed, and opened his laptop, intent on editing the final draft of his assignment. He was totally bewildered by Ariadne's attitude, but she'd promised to explain everything tomorrow, and as long as she wasn't mad at him, he could cope with not knowing. Focusing on his work, Arthur let his sadness and misery slip away, but he couldn't help checking his phone every time he'd finished editing a page. He didn't have anything from Eames.

At around dinner time, Arthur took a break, closing his laptop and rubbing his eyes. He stood up to get a glass of water, when his phone started to ring. He glanced down to see Eames' name and picture. For a spiteful moment, he considered not answering, before he sighed and picked it up.

"Hey, Eames. What's up?"

"Darling, I need to talk to you. I have a problem that I need help with. I've thought it over all night, and I decided that I need your help." Eames' voice immediately brightened Arthur's mood, but his words caused alarm.

"What is it?" He asked, sharply. "You know I'll help if you can." He reached for his laptop, ready to do whatever it was Eames needed.

Eames paused. "Well, it's just that… I seem to be in love with you."

Arthur stopped dead, hands outstretched. There was no way he'd heard that correctly. Whatever Eames had said, it definitely wasn't that.

"_What_?" Arthur asked, his heart racing.

"I'm in love with you, Arthur. I have been for a very long time, and sometimes I get glimpses where I think you feel the same, but then nothing ever comes of it. Please, tell me I'm not reading this wrong." Eames' tone was pleading.

Arthur felt his heart soar, and struggled to maintain his composure. He sank onto his chair, weakly, not sure his legs would support him if he kept standing.

"You're not reading this wrong." He said quietly. "I'm in love with you too."

Silence. "What?"

"I'm in love with you too." Arthur repeated. "Christ, Eames, how could I not love you? You're everything to me." He said, desperately, wishing they could have done this in London, in person.

"Well why the bloody hell didn't you say something?" Eames demanded, exasperatedly.

"Why didn't you?" Arthur countered, haughtily.

Eames sounded outraged. "I just did!"

Arthur sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He could sense that Eames was going to bring on a migraine. "You know what I mean. Before now."

Eames sighed. "There were a few reasons I haven't said anything. I wasn't sure what I had to offer you, or what you even saw in me. I'm not saying I fully understand now, but I do have a better idea. Then there was the question of how you felt. I was never fully certain you returned my feelings, darling; you are rather an enigma. And then there's the question of what happens now."

That last sentence caught Arthur's attention. "What _does_ happen now?" He asked. Eames was silent, and Arthur had his answer. "You're not going to give up your job, are you?"

"Would you ask me to?" Eames replied, quietly.

Arthur shook his head, forgetting for a moment that Eames couldn't see him. "No. Of course not. Would you do it if I did?"

"No, darling, probably not." Eames admitted. While the words were a blow to Arthur, it wasn't something he didn't already know.

"So we stay the way we are?" Arthur clarified, trying to understand Eames' angle. When Eames replied in the affirmative, he frowned in frustration, resisting the urge to rip out his hair. "So why mention it at all?"

"You needed to know how I felt." The Brit said simply. "Even if nothing changed, we both needed to know, to stop constantly wondering."

Arthur rubbed his eyes, tiredly. "I don't understand." He said at last. "Are you asking me to forget how I feel about you, pretend this conversation ever happened?"

"No!" Eames cried. "But I won't let you wait for me either. I can't give you false hope that I'll ever quit, that I'll ever be able to walk away from this job and spend the rest of my life with you. You know Cobol will never let me leave their employment, not alive. And if they find out about you, you're immediately at risk, and I can't let that happen."

"That's not your decision to make." Arthur argued.

"I'm afraid it is, darling." Arthur knew the exact expression Eames would be wearing, and balled his fists angrily, thankful that the Brit was not in the room with him. "I can't put you in danger; I can't risk them using you to get to me. I won't allow it."

Arthur saw red. "And I won't allow you to make decisions for me." He snapped, furiously. "We're either in this together, as _equals_, or you can consider this the end of our friendship, and quite frankly, you can, in your own words, _sod off_." He snarled.

Eames fell silent, thinking. Arthur waited patiently, his heart racing, hands shaking. Eames' decision would either make or break them.

"Fair enough then, darling." Eames acquiesced. "You're right of course, as always."

"As always." Arthur laughed, weakly. "I know the risks, Eames. I've thought of nothing else since I met you. Just… try not to screw up. I'm rather attached to my legs."

"Never." Eames said firmly, and Arthur didn't even have a shred of doubt. While he might not have known the extent of Eames' feelings, he had always known that Arthur's safety was first and foremost, and Eames would do anything in his power to keep him safe. "So where do we go from here?"

Arthur bit his lip, thinking. "I guess we take things as they come. And we'll see how things go next time you're in Los Angeles."

Eames laughed. "Actually, darling, I meant to talk to you about that."

Arthur paused. "What about it?"

"Well you see, I'm here now." Eames replied, and Arthur could hear the grin in his voice.

"_What_?"

"I'm outside your door, darling." He knocked, seemingly to prove his words. Arthur moved to the door in shock and opened it to see Eames standing there, his phone clutched to his ear. Arthur ended the call and stared at him.

"Why not tell me all of this in person?" He said, eventually.

Eames smiled. "I didn't want to make things awkward for you. I never want to make you feel like Nash did, Arthur. And if I'm honest, I didn't expect this outcome. I was going to use my arrival as a sort of grand gesture."

Arthur nodded, slowly. "Well it worked. Are you coming in?"

He stepped back and let Eames pass. Arthur's head was buzzing with everything that had been said. It almost didn't seem possible that Eames was in his living room. He turned to find Eames standing very close to him.

"So we're going to see how this goes?" The thief asked, seemingly ignoring the fact that he was invading Arthur's personal space.

Arthur nodded. "I thought so."

Eames nodded, slowly. "Right." He slammed his lips against Arthur's in a bruising kiss, forcing him backwards, pressed up against the door. Arthur's eyes widened in shock, before he realised what was happening and began to kiss him back, furiously.

Arthur's fingers curled tightly in Eames' hair and Eames gripped Arthur's hips tight enough that Arthur knew there would be bruises where Eames' fingertips had dug into his skin, but the knowledge only made Arthur kiss back harder. He pushed against Eames, struggling to gain some control, and managed to force him to the sofa.

He'd only managed to gain the leverage because Eames hadn't expected Arthur to make such a move, so when Eames realised what was happening, he reversed the situation. He forced Arthur back onto the sofa, and climbed on top of him, pressing frantic, desperate kisses to Arthur's swollen lips.

Arthur moaned and arched his back, causing his groin to rub against Eames'. The friction sent them both wild, and Arthur pulled Eames back in for a kiss, their tongues clashing in a battle for dominance. Their breathing grew frantic, as Arthur kept thrusting up against Eames, wanton and desperate. They'd both wasted so much time, their passion had overloaded. Eames pressed kisses along Arthur's jaw, and Arthur bit down hard on Eames' shoulder, causing a gasp that was filled with both pleasure and pain, but it brought them both to their senses.

"Stop, stop." Eames panted. "We have to stop."

He scrambled off the sofa, running his hands through his now-messy hair, in an attempt to compose himself. Arthur sat up, wiping his mouth and trying to catch his breath.

"That wasn't supposed to happen." Eames said firmly. "Not that it wasn't fantastic, darling, because _fucking hell_, it was amazing, but I don't want to rush this."

"Me neither." Arthur shook his head. "I want this to work more than anything, between us. Maybe we should try…dating or something first, before we do anything that intense again?"

"I couldn't agree more." Eames grinned, and Arthur's eyes lowered to his swollen, pink lips, and felt a jolt of desire.

"Umm, would you like a cup of tea?" He asked, hurriedly, in an attempt to tear his thoughts away from exactly what Eames' lips were capable of.

Eames smirked, as if he knew exactly what Arthur had been thinking about. "I'd love one."

Arthur moved into the kitchen, and took two mugs from his cupboard. As he pulled the teabags from the shelf, he let a small smile play on his lips. So that was why Ariadne had blown him off. She must have known Eames was coming. Arthur felt his heart soar, unable to believe how perfect his life was.

"Are you hungry? Did you want a sandwich or something?" He called.

Eames came into the kitchen and wrapped his arms around Arthur's waist, resting his head on his shoulder. "Nah, I'm good. Got everything I need right here."

Arthur smiled and leant into the embrace. That was a sentiment he definitely understood.

* * *

**Yay! I had all the feels writing this, because they're eventually together, with no misunderstandings, no drunken kisses, just complete love! It's taken so long to get to this stage, I'm almost weeping that they've finally sorted things out!**

**Please review, the wonderful comments I received on the last chapter just made my night! I love you all! -DD**


	25. It's Always Darkest Before The Dawn

**Phew, I thought this chapter would never get done! But here it is! This chapter will possibly seem short, because it actually has a missing scene, due to FF's smut bans. Check out my profile for the AO3 link, where you can read the uncensored chapter.**

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Four: It's Always Darkest Before The Dawn**

Arthur handed the mug of tea to Eames, and they returned to the living room. Eames settled down on the sofa, completely at ease, and Arthur sat next to him, but kept a reasonable distance between them. He didn't want to come on too strong. Eames, however, was having none of it and pulled Arthur closer to him in such a fast movement that Arthur had to move quickly so as to not spill his tea. He glared at Eames, who grinned at him, unabashedly.

"That's fucking hot, you know." Arthur hissed.

Eames shrugged. "So are you, darling." He smirked, and Arthur couldn't find it in himself to be cross with him. He smiled and leaned over and pressed a quick kiss to Eames' mouth.

"It's amazing, being able to do simple things like this." Arthur murmured, shyly. "After telling myself for so long that it could never happen, it's just so surreal."

Eames took Arthur's hand and laced their fingers together. "I know what you mean, darling. I'd long since accepted that this was never meant to be, to be with you now is just amazing."

Arthur nodded. "How long are you here for? Didn't you have a job in Mexico?"

Eames glanced at him, and reluctantly nodded his head. "Yeah. I'm trying to work out the timing so that I can be back for your graduation, darling. Remind me of the date again?"

"June sixteenth." Arthur told him. "Just over six weeks away. Have you finished planning?"

Eames shook his head. "No, this is a big job, and from what I've found out, the security is ridiculous. This is one of the most challenging jobs I've ever had. It's gonna take me at least a month."

Arthur sighed and put down his cup. "Eames, listen to me. While I would love for you to stay with me until graduation, I understand that your job needs to come first. You have whatever it is you need to steal, and I have to edit my final assignment for next week, before I can even _think_ about my architecture blueprints. If you're here, neither of us will get any work done. And it's not the end of the world if you can't make my graduation."

Eames didn't look convinced, staring miserably into his tea. Arthur sighed. Getting Eames to see sense was like getting blood from a stone.

"I mean it." He said firmly. He squeezed their entwined hands. "I knew what I was signing up for, when we agreed to do this. Eames, this is who you are, and I love you because of that, not in spite of it."

Eames looked up, unable to help the beaming smile that made its way onto his face. "I don't think I'll ever _not_ be amazed when I hear that." He admitted. His eyes softened. "I'm sure I can spare another two days. You want to be wined and dined, darling? How about tonight? I mean, at this short notice we might not get a reservation anywhere fancy, but I could take you for a nice meal somewhere?"

Arthur considered it. He _was_ hungry, but he wasn't sure if he was up to an evening in an upscale restaurant. Eames would only be here for a two days, and he didn't want to waste one of their evenings somewhere they would be entirely uncomfortable.

"I'd rather just get takeout and watch a movie, if that's all the same to you." He suggested, quietly. "I was never one for conforming to society's demands of an expensive meal for a first date."

Eames grinned. "Fine by me. We've done this all out of order, haven't we? I mean, shouldn't we date _before_ we fall in love? But then, I was never one for conforming to any of society's demands."

Arthur grinned back and moved to kiss Eames. "Scoundrel." He murmured against his lips. He felt Eames' plump lips quirk up in amusement against his own.

"Rebel." Eames teased, pulling Arthur back down for another brief kiss, that shot a bolt of desire through them both.

"Thief." Arthur said breathlessly, and kissed Eames eagerly, slipping his tongue into the forger's mouth, hot and needy. They broke it off almost immediately; memories of getting carried away earlier fresh in their heads.

The rest of their night passed slowly, to their mutual delight. Nothing much had changed between them, the ease of conversation and the enjoyment they found in each other's company still present. The only difference was that a huge weight had been lifted. They were together, and suddenly watching the movie in each other's arms meant more than it had previously.

When the movie had finished, Arthur stood up to turn the TV off. He stretched out his arms, and rolled his neck, exhausted.

"I'm gonna head to bed, I think I'm still jetlagged." He yawned. "Are you staying up for a bit?"

Eames nodded, uncertainly. "I think so. Maybe another half an hour."

Arthur nodded. "Well, don't disturb me when you come to bed."

Eames' head snapped up and Arthur realised what he'd said. "Oh. Look, we don't have to. The spare bed is made up, if you want it. I just thought…" He rubbed his neck, awkwardly. "You know what? Forget I said that. I don't mind either way."

He disappeared, leaving Eames alone, totally confused. It only took his brain a few seconds to catch up and he was on his feet instantly, following Arthur into the bedroom. He burst through the door.

"You're a prat, Arthur." Eames said, exasperatedly, shaking his head. "Why would I not want to share the bed with you? You just took me by surprise, that's all."

Arthur smiled at him, and Eames was greeted by the sight of his dimples. He watched, enraptured by the boyish expression Arthur's face wore when he smiled. It was positively adorable. They shed their clothes and slid into beds, keeping their underwear on. Neither of them wanted to risk being tempted by a distinct lack of clothes. After Nash, it had taken Arthur too long to become emotionally attached to anyone. He wasn't sure if was honestly ready to make the jump to physical just yet, even if it was with Eames. They slipped under the covers, and Arthur reached for Eames, pressing a kiss to the forger's collar bone.

"I love you." He murmured, sleepily. Eames pressed a kiss to his forehead.

"I love you too, darling. Good night."

* * *

The next morning, Arthur woke up to find his head on something that definitely wasn't a pillow. He tilted his head to see Eames propped up against a pillow, staring down at him. He blinked a few times, to clear the remains of sleep from his eyes, before smiling shyly up at his boyfriend.

"Hi." He breathed.

Eames grinned, amused. "Hey. Forgotten I was here?"

Arthur shook his head. "Not exactly. I thought I'd dreamt it all." He admitted.

Eames shook his head softly, and stroked Arthur's hair lovingly. "Nah, darling. You don't have the imagination to dream up something like that."

Arthur scowled and swatted his hand away. "And I suppose you do?"

"Well, of course, darling. I wouldn't a very good thief if I didn't have an imagination, now would I?"

Arthur shook his head, disbelievingly and rolled out of bed. Eames watched him, appreciatively, as Arthur pulled a t-shirt from his closet. Arthur was slim, but had muscles. His skin was smooth, flawless and Eames desired him more than anything. His resolve wavered, but he forced himself to remain under the covers. If he reached for Arthur now, there was no guarantee that they would be able to resist. So Eames ensured he kept his fists clenched under the covers until Arthur turned back.

"I'm going to grab a shower, then we'll decide on what we're doing today, okay?"

"Don't I at least get a kiss first?" Eames pouted.

"We haven't brushed our teeth, we'll have morning breath." Arthur protested, half-heartedly, before he sighed, acquiescing. He leaned down and brushing his lips against Eames', keeping his mouth firmly closed and pulling away quickly when Eames tried to deepen the kiss. He raised an eyebrow and Eames grinned unabashedly, before trying to pull Arthur back down on to the bed. Arthur sidestepped the gesture neatly, smiling, before heading into the bathroom.

When the shower started, Eames slid out of bed. Padding barefoot to the kitchen, in nothing but his boxers, he began to make breakfast. When Arthur emerged from the shower, Eames was tipping the last chocolate chip pancake onto a plate.

"Oh God." Arthur groaned, inhaling the wonderful scent of food. "Seriously, why can't you live here permanently? I swear, I never get tired of your cooking."

"Ahh, I knew you only loved me for my culinary skills." Eames waved the spatula dramatically, clutching his chest. "You wound me deeply, darling."

Arthur stared at him, shaking his head. "Stop being foolish and hand over the pancakes." He ordered.

Eames grinned, and did as he was told. "The things I put up with." He tutted, jokingly.

Arthur surveyed him, amused. "I think you're mistakenly referring to the things _I_ put up with, Mr Eames."

He started cutting into the pancakes without further ado, and Eames watched him for a few moments, fondly, before starting in on his own breakfast.

That afternoon, they headed along to see Yusuf and Ariadne. They wanted to spend Eames' last evening alone, and it wasn't fair of him to monopolise Eames for his whole visit; he should spend some time with his friend too.

Ariadne answered the door, and shrugged unabashedly when Arthur stared at her, pointedly, remembering their conversation the previous day.

"What was I meant to do? Turning up at your door would have been a pointless gesture if you weren't home to appreciate it."

"True." Arthur conceded. "But you could have been a bit less… evasive? I thought I'd really done something to offend you."

Ariadne bowed her head, looking slightly guilty at that. "That wasn't my intention." She bit her lip. "I just needed to make sure you were home, so I was trying to put you off."

"So how long have you known, anyway?" Arthur frowned.

She looked thoughtful. "Which? That he loved you or that you loved him? Or that he was coming to LA?"

"All of them, I guess." Arthur shrugged.

Ariadne grinned. "Well, I knew you had feelings for him that day I slapped Mal, but I wasn't sure how strong they were until that day you first spoke to Eames on the phone. When he'd said that he didn't have time for friends, and I spoke to both of you to sort things out. That's when I knew how Eames felt about you too."

Arthur nodded slowly, before turning to Eames. "What _was_ that all about?"

Eames looked sheepish. "Well, you see, darling, I was under the terrible misapprehension that Nash was of the fairer sex, and well…"

"You thought I was straight." Arthur finished, pursing his lips. "You practically broke my heart because you were upset that I couldn't return your feelings, when you had no intention of us being together anyway."

"I was a prize idiot?" Eames volunteered. "A heartless, miserable excuse for a human being, and I'll be sleeping on the sofa tonight?"

"Got it in one." Arthur agreed, but he couldn't completely repress his smile.

They spent the afternoon playing chess and monopoly, which ended sharply when Yusuf's cat, Rani, upset the board in her attempt to explore what had gotten them so excited.

"No!" Yusuf cried. "I was just about to buy Boardwalk!"

Eames chuckled. "Bad luck, mate. I fucking hate monopoly. It's a pointless game that takes too long to win. I'm going to give that cat a medal."

They moved to chess, and Eames began showing Arthur how to complete his signature move, which would make checkmate in ten moves or less. Arthur watched eagerly, as Eames talked him through it step by step. He mastered the move in fifteen minutes, and was looking forward to the next time he saw his parents and he could beat his dad at chess.

As the evening commenced, they made their excuses. Eames hugged Ariadne and shook hands with Yusuf, promising to try and be back for their graduation if he could manage it.

"If not, I'll come as soon as I can after that." He vowed.

"Do you want a lift to the airport tomorrow, Eames?" Yusuf asked. "Ariadne's got to work, but I can take you."

Arthur shuddered at the thought of Yusuf's driving. When he pulled up outside Ariadne's, the engine squealed as if it were in agony, and he took corners too wide. He was a danger to pedestrians, and Arthur had never been driven anywhere by Yusuf.

"If you promise to get me there in one piece." Eames said, solemnly.

Arthur snorted. It wasn't too far from the truth. Yusuf spluttered, furiously, offended by Eames' words.

Arthur and Eames laughed at Yusuf's huffing and waved goodbye to their friends. They walked across campus slowly, taking a slow stroll back to Arthur's dorm. They didn't really speak, lost in their own thoughts. Arthur was wondering how to broach the subject to Eames that his parents would be attending graduation. He didn't want them getting the wrong idea that he and Eames were having sex when they didn't even know that they were currently dating. At least until he'd spoken to his parents, Eames would have to stay with Yusuf.

Eames was similarly lost in thought. He knew this job would take a ridiculous amount of planning, and there was no way he would be back in time to see Arthur graduate. He'd given it a month, but that was the bare minimum. The computer records were too well protected for Eames to break; he'd tried, so he would need to physically observe how often the patrols changed and finding the best way in would require entering the museum more than once after hours, which made the job infinitely riskier. He knew he could ask Arthur for help to break into the database, but he knew that Arthur's finals exams were looming, and he didn't want to do anything to interfere with Arthur's college work. Besides, this wasn't something he hadn't had to deal with before, it just took longer. The only different was that Eames would feel like shit for having to let Arthur down.

Arthur unlocked the door and they slipped inside, silently. Eames shrugged off his jacket and hung it over the back of the chair.

"Eames?" Arthur asked, hesitantly. "You're pretty quiet. Is there something wrong?"

The Brit hesitated. He wouldn't lie, but he didn't want Arthur to know the trouble he was having over the job.

"Nothing I can't handle." He said eventually, smiling. Arthur looked uncertain, but inclined his head, respecting that Eames didn't want him to push the subject.

"What about you? You've been quiet yourself." Eames pointed out. "Anything you want to talk about?"

Arthur paused, then nodded. "Yeah, I guess so. I just realised I never told you that my parents would be coming to my graduation."

Eames nodded, slowly. "I assumed they would be. I'm not seeing the issue? Don't you want them to meet me?"

"No, no!" Arthur said hurriedly. "No, it's not that at all. It's just… I haven't told them about us yet, obviously, and I'd rather do it in person. But we haven't been together all that long and I don't want them to think we've rushed into anything, so…"

"So you want me to stay with Yusuf." Eames finished. He smiled. "Don't worry about it, darling. Whatever you need to me to do."

Arthur smiled. "Thanks, Eames. I really appreciate it."

Eames nodded, and stroked Arthur's cheek, lovingly. "What do you want to do tonight?

Arthur shrugged. "Whatever you want to do. I'd prefer to stay in though, spend my last night with you. We could order pizza or something, watch a movie."

"Sounds good." Eames agreed, amiably. Arthur gestured for Eames to pick a movie from his collection as he rang the order through. Both of them had decided to split a large pepperoni. When Arthur had put down the phone, he approached Eames to see what he'd chosen. He found him clutching a DVD case with a raised eyebrow. Arthur glanced to see what Eames had uncovered. His eyes widened and he blushed furiously. It was something Ariadne had forced him to watch once, and shamefully, he'd liked it enough to buy it.

"The Princess Bride? Really? Darling, you own a romcom? Seriously?" Eames stared between Arthur and the movie in disbelief.

"Have you seen it? It's not really as bad as it sounds. It's pretty funny, and there's action and fencing. There's even a giant. It's iconic." Arthur defended.

Eames held up his hands. "Fine, darling. If you think it's good enough to own, we'll watch it. I trust your judgment."

Arthur slid the DVD into the tray and started the movie. Eames watched, enraptured for the first thirty minutes, until the man in black caught up with Princess Buttercup. This was Arthur's favourite scene, and he desperately wanted Eames to like it. He began mouthing the words along with the man in black, staring at the screen.

"I remember this farm boy of yours, I think. This would be what, five years ago? Does it bother you to hear?" He said.

Buttercup kept her eyes fixed on the horizon. "Nothing you can say will upset me." She tried keeping her tone icy, but her tear filled eyes betrayed her pain.

"He died well; that should please you. No bribe attempts or blubbering. He simply said 'please'. 'Please, I need to live.'" The masked man continued. Buttercup tore her eyes away from the sky and looked down. "It was the 'please' that caught my memory. I asked him what was so important for him. 'True love', he replied."

Arthur felt tears prick his eyes. Even though he knew what was coming, that scene was always so haunting for him, the score making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

"That was a beautiful scene." Eames said quietly, unshed tears in his own eyes.

Arthur nodded, ridiculously glad that Eames understood how heart-rendering it was. They watched the rest of the movie in silence, only pausing it when their pizza arrived.

When the movie was over, and they'd finished with their food, Arthur and Eames discussed it in great depth, talking about their favourite lines.

"So you enjoyed it then?" Arthur asked, eagerly.

Eames laughed and nodded, his eyes shining. "Yes, darling, it was brilliant. As usual, you were completely right."

Arthur laughed and shoved Eames in the chest, playfully. Eames chuckled and shoved him back, sending Arthur off the sofa. Apologetically, Eames reached to help him up, but when Arthur took his hand, he yanked sharply, pulling Eames down on top of him. Eames lay on top of Arthur, laughing, breathlessly, until the humour wore off and the tension caused by their proximity set in.

"Hey." He said, softly, staring into Arthur's eyes.

"Hi." Arthur replied, before closing the gap between them, meeting Eames' lips firmly. Eames was taken by surprise, but he melted into the kiss, making sure not to drop his whole weight onto Arthur. After a few seconds, he pulled back, standing up, and pulling Arthur with him. When Arthur was standing, Eames kissed him again. The American's lips warm and yielding and Eames felt himself becoming lightheaded from the kiss. He broke away for air, gasping.

Arthur was panting, but the heat in his gaze was evident.

"We should go to bed." Eames said, quietly. Arthur agreed.

Slipping into bed, they lay back into the pillows, pulling the sheets over them. Neither of them spoke, just stared into each other's eyes as they drifted off to sleep, feeling genuinely happy.

* * *

The next morning, Arthur awoke to find Eames perched on the end of the bed, staring at him, the pale grey eyes filled with affection. He smiled, happily.

"Good morning." Arthur murmured, leaning over for a kiss, which Eames gave him easily. "How long have we got?"

"Less than an hour." Eames admitted. "I've already sent Yusuf a text; he'll be here for just before ten."

Arthur sighed, sadly, nodding. "I better grab a shower then. Have you had one?"

Eames nodded. "About an hour ago. I had to get up and pack. Go on, I'll watch TV or something while you're showering."

Arthur nodded, and slid out of bed, unashamed of the fact that he was half-naked. Eames watched him appreciatively, as Arthur grabbed a towel and a change of clothes, before heading into the bathroom. Arthur felt the good mood he'd awoken in slowly start to disintegrate, with Eames' impending departure. When he emerged from the bathroom, clean and dressed, he sat next to his lover and took his hand, but didn't speak. Neither of them wanted to be the one to say goodbye first. It had been decided the previous night that Arthur wouldn't accompany Eames and Yusuf to the airport, as he was running out of time to perfect his blueprints.

All too soon, Yusuf pulled up outside. Eames opened the door, signalling for Arthur to wait. He loaded his suitcase in the back.

"I'll be a few minutes." He told Yusuf, who understood, and nodded once. Eames headed back inside and closed the door behind him. Arthur moved towards him, pausing so that they were almost, but not quite touching.

"Graduation?" He asked, pleased that he was able to keep his voice steady.

Eames swallowed. "If I can, darling, I promise. If the worst happens, I'll be there as soon as I can."

Arthur nodded, and raised his hand, stroking Eames' cheek with his thumb. "I'll miss you."

Eames took his hand. "Likewise, Arthur."

He leaned in and captured Arthur's lips in a soft, but lingering kiss. Arthur's eyes fluttered shut and he wrapped his arms around Eames, holding him close. Eames broke the kiss and pulled Arthur into a hug, burying his head in Arthur's neck, as if he could memorise his scent.

"I love you." He said, firmly.

Arthur couldn't hold back his smile. "I love you too."

With a last look, Eames opened the door and headed to the car. Arthur watched him slide into the seat, his heart clenched.

"Eames!" He called suddenly. "You have your phone, right?"

Eames nodded, understanding what Arthur was asking. "528491." He called back, cryptically. Yusuf frowned and looked between them, doubly confused when Arthur seemed to understand the unusual code. He started the engine, and slowly pulled away.

"Be safe." Arthur whispered, and Eames smiled and nodded once, having easily guessed what Arthur had said. Their eyes remained locked on each other until Yusuf rounded the corner, and the other was no longer in sight.

* * *

**Awww, I tried to balance this chapter with sadness and happiness, but I'm not sure how much it worked.**

**Please review, seriously, reading them always lifts my spirits and I treasure them so much! –DD**


	26. Laughing The Clouds Away

**I thought this chapter would never be finished! I had to check with a friend about American graduation ceremonies, because I'm British and the process is seemingly completely different. Hopefully it was okay; I tried to skimp on details to keep the chapter the right length. Hope you enjoy it :)**

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Five: Laughing The Clouds Away**

The next six weeks passed very slowly. Aside from the occasional text message, Arthur hadn't heard from Eames at all. He'd finished his blueprints and submitted them, along with his final assignment for Professor Saito in time for the deadline, but without Eames to fill in his spare hours, Arthur was bored. He found himself requesting more assignments from Jacques in order to alleviate his boredom.

Eames sent him a text once every few days, just to check in and make sure Arthur knew he was okay. The days ticked closer to Arthur's graduation, and finally, the day before arrived. Arthur planned to stay in and find something to do for Jacques, but Yusuf had other plans. At dinnertime, he turned up at Arthur's dorm, with his chess set in tow. When Arthur answered the door, Yusuf sighed.

"You haven't heard from him then."

"Not yet." Arthur shook his head. "How did you know?"

Yusuf looked at him pointedly. "The way your face dropped when you saw it was me."

Arthur bit his lip, apologetically. "Yusuf, it's not that…"

Yusuf waved him away, casually. "I know, Arthur, don't worry. No offence taken. But I refuse to let you mope the evening before your graduation. Come on. White or black."

"Black." Arthur replied, sitting down across from his friend. "I appreciate this Yusuf, I really do. And I'm not moping as such; I just … really want him to be there."

Yusuf made his move. "I know you do." He paused uneasily. "I know that you're sensible, Arthur. I know you know your own mind, but I just want to ask, have you actually thought this through? Eames was always hesitant about telling you how he felt for this reason. As long as he works for Cobol, it's always going to be like this."

"I know." Arthur acknowledged his words, moving his own piece. "I've thought about nothing else since I first realised how I felt. I get that he might not be able to come and I want to be with him regardless. But I can't help that I'm going to be upset every time he misses something. I know he'd be here if he could, and that's good enough for me."

Yusuf nodded quietly. "Check. Have you thought about when Cobol no longer have a use for him?"

Arthur flinched, and his hand stilled. He couldn't bring himself to speak, so he nodded once, a single jerk of his head.

"And?" Yusuf asked quietly. "I don't want to see you hurt, Arthur."

"If he runs, I stay to graduate, then run with him. Check." Arthur gestured to the board.

Yusuf glanced down in surprise, and moved his bishop. "And your family? Your friends?"

"It's nothing that I haven't considered doing even if he doesn't have to run." Arthur said seriously. "Check."

Yusuf nodded, slowly. "And if the worst comes, and he doesn't even get a chance to run?" He had to hand it to Arthur, who had clearly been expecting the question, he didn't even flinch. Instead, he raised his eyes to Yusuf's, seriously.

"If he dies? I don't know." Arthur shook his head, his eyes falling to the chessboard as he considered his move. "But I do know that I'm not a coward. I'm not going to turn down even a second of happiness just in case things turn sour. I've accepted that one day he won't come back to me Yusuf, and I've got measures in place for that, but I'm not going to turn my back on him."

Yusuf nodded, slowly, recognising that Arthur had made his decision with a clear head.

"Oh, and checkmate." Arthur added; enjoying the look of shock that spread over Yusuf's face as the chemist surveyed the board.

A high pitched siren suddenly sounded, and Arthur's face turned white as he spun around to stare at his laptop. Yusuf stared between the laptop and Arthur, until the same sound emitted from Arthur's phone.

"What the fuck is that noise?" Yusuf frowned.

Arthur stood up swiftly, sending the chess board and all the pieces flying all over his living room. Shakily, he grabbed his laptop, tapping furiously at the keys. He kept his eyes focused on the laptop as he replied to Yusuf.

"Eames just activated his GPS. Something's wrong."

* * *

Eames slid out of the vent, dropping to the floor silently. A quick glance around told him that the room was deserted. So far, so good. But he couldn't shake the feeling that he was rushing. In normal circumstances, tonight wouldn't be the actual theft; it would be just his practice run, to check the size of the statuette and make sure he could carry it out of the vent without running into any difficulties. But Eames was determined to make it back for Arthur's graduation, and he needed to do this tonight. He glanced back up at the vent. As far as he could tell from the few plans he had managed to gather, this was the only way in or out of the wing without setting off any alarms. The statuette he needed was three rooms over, and the balcony windows were automatically locked with a computer. This left Eames with two options: the doors that separated the rooms, or the hall.

He crept quietly to the large oak doors which separated the rooms. This was likely to be patrolled less often than the hall. Quietly, he turned the handle and cracked open the door.

A voice called sharply from the end of the other room; a guard had noticed the door opening. Cursing, Eames slammed the door and propped a chair up against it. He dashed for the vent, pulling himself up and replacing the grate. Shit. Reaching for his phone with shaking hands, Eames slowly typed in the code to activate his GPS. A few moments later, his phone rang and he put it to his ear, unable to speak. There was a hammering at the door and Eames could hear muffled cries as the guards were trying to get in.

"Eames? I know you probably can't speak, but if you can hear me, tap the microphone twice." Eames almost cried at his boyfriend's ingenuity, that Arthur was clever enough to understand that Eames had to be silent, and had managed to orchestrate a way around it. "Good. It'll take too much time for me to guess scenarios, so if you type something onto your phone, it should come up on my computer. Where are you?"

Eames typed quickly, his fingers trembling. _Museum. Vent. _The door flew open and two guards with guns entered the room, searching furiously. One of them glanced up at the vent, and Eames' breath caught in his throat, as he reached for his knockout gas. If he sprayed the first guard, he would have no choice but to shoot the second. The guard tore his eyes away, satisfied that the vent was still attached and headed over to the window.

"You're in the vent system? Which room?"

Again, Eames typed quickly, giving Arthur the floor and the wing. There was silence on the line, aside from Arthur typing furiously.

"Right. I'm assuming you want a safe way out. I'm going to set off an alarm a few rooms down, to distract the guards. When you hear the alarm sound, count to ten, and then get out of the vent. Unlocking the window will set off another alarm, so I need to make sure the guards are well away from your room before I can open it. Tap twice if you got that."

Eames tapped twice.

"Can you get out of the grounds without my assistance? Tap twice for yes."

He tapped twice.

"Good. Call me back when you're clear. Be safe, Eames."

The call ended, and almost instantly, an alarm was set off, ringing a fair distance away. Eames watched the guards rush out of the room and counted to ten, before sliding out of the vent silently. He'd just replaced the vent when the alarm in his room sounded, and he dashed for the window. He vaulted from one balcony to the next, rounding the corner before he dropped to the next floor, and then to the ground, before he was up and running for the tree that was his ticket over the wall. He was a good half-mile away from the museum before he reached for his phone.

"Eames?" Arthur picked up instantly. "Are you hurt?"

"No." Eames gasped, clutching his sides. "Just fucking out of breath. You saved my neck, Arthur."

Arthur was silent. "What happened? You never make mistakes."

"I couldn't get the plans I needed." Eames admitted. "I mean, I could, but they were going to take too long. I needed to do this tonight if I was going to be back for your graduation."

"Are you fucking serious?" Arthur retorted, angrily. "Eames, if you miss the graduation, it won't be the end of the world, I'd rather you missed it and weren't killed or rotting in a Mexican jail! Don't ever take risks like that again!"

Eames sighed. "I just wanted this one thing to be normal. Everything about our relationship is as far from normal as it can be. I just wanted us to have this one thing, wanted _you_ to have this one thing, with your family and your friends. You deserve more than this, Arthur. You deserve to have a normal boyfriend, who can come to your graduation, and I can't give you that."

"What you think I deserve, and what I want are two different things." Arthur said, firmly. "I don't want a normal boyfriend, Eames, I want _you_."

"I know, Arthur. But I just wanted to do one thing for you and I couldn't even get that right." Eames sighed.

Arthur sighed in response. "It doesn't matter, especially when I've just seen the alternative. Look, what we haven't isn't perfect, but it's what we both want. I love you, and I need you to understand that you don't have to risk your safety for me."

"I understand, darling, I do. And I love you too. I hope tomorrow goes well for you. Call me when you get a chance."

"I will." Arthur said quietly. "Stay safe, Eames, you hear me?"

"Loud and clear, darling. Good night."

* * *

"What the hell just happened?" Yusuf asked quietly, as Arthur ended the call. "Arthur, you just hacked into a museums _security system_? What happens if they trace the commands back to you?"

"They won't. I rerouted the signal through China and…" He trailed off. "Look, I'm a computer hacker Yusuf, it's how I compile my reports for Jacques."

Yusuf still looked unhappy, so Arthur sighed. "Would you rather I left him to be arrested?"

"Of course not." Yusuf said sharply. "But you've got to understand how it looks, Arthur. While you might not work strictly within the law, there's a major difference between hacking and being an accessory to armed robbery! I trusted Eames not to corrupt you!"

Arthur glared at him, furiously. "He's done nothing of the kind." He snapped. "He didn't ask me to help. The security measures you just saw are in place so that if anything happens to Eames, I can locate his body for his mom. In case you didn't notice, Yusuf, I didn't actually help him steal anything. I helped him get out when the job went wrong. Wouldn't you do the same?"

"Yes." Yusuf admitted. "But my morals are a lot less scrupulous than yours. Suffice to say my employers are fairly similar to Eames'."

Arthur spun around, his mouth dry. "You work for Cobol?"

"Not exactly. I deal with Cobol regularly, and I introduced Eames to them. But where Eames steals, I invent. My solutions are creations that can help in large scale robberies. A clear, odourless knock out gas, or an explosive liquid that can knock out the power of a building, both of which Cobol use regularly."

Arthur gaped at him, unable to believe the developments. "And when Eames was on the run? Cobol knew he was here the whole time?"

Yusuf looked affronted. "Do I look like the kind of person that would sell out his friends? No, I work for a company that distributes to Cobol, and they prefer not to get involved with Cobol's politics. No, the difference between me and Eames is, if it came down to it, I wouldn't sell out my friends."

Arthur looked at him calculatingly. "You think he would sell me out if he ever needed to?"

"Without a doubt." Yusuf replied, sadly. "I'm sorry to say this, Arthur, I really am. But you need to understand that this is what he is, this is what you signed up for. I know he loves you, but Eames made his decision years ago."

"I see." Arthur said finally. "You know him better than I do. But I don't agree."

He stood up. "If it were anyone other than you telling me this, I'd physically throw them out, you know that? But I think you're trying to do right by both of us, trying to stay loyal to both of you friends. Am I right?"

Yusuf nodded, solemnly. "It puts me in a difficult position. But I'm not trying to come between you or make you change your mind. I just think you need to be aware that if it came to a choice, it might not go in your favour."

Arthur shook his head. "No, I'm sorry. I've seen how conflicted Eames can be, and I have faith that he wouldn't let me down. But your concerns are duly noted. Come on, let's start another game, I'm graduating tomorrow, and you said it yourself, I don't want to spend my night moping."

The next morning, Arthur woke early, as always. After checking his phone for texts from Eames, and finding none, he went for his usual morning jog, taking a bottle of water with him. The exercise served its purpose and cleared Arthur's head of any feelings of disappointment and the nerves of graduating. He'd already been given his grades, an A+ in Sociology, and an A in Architecture. He'd done brilliant, although he'd kept his grades to himself.

Upon returning to his room, Arthur took a long, hot, shower, washing the tension away from his shoulders. He towelled off and dressed in a pair of dark slacks and a pale grey button down shirt. His graduation gown and cap hung from his kitchen door, black with white trim, signifying his bachelor's degree in Sociology. He would put those on at the last minute.

Arthur settled down with his newest book, Wicked, to pass the time away. After a while, he glanced at his watch. It was nearing eleven o'clock. His parents would be arriving soon. Arthur replaced his book on the table, after replacing his bookmark. A few minutes later, he heard a car pull up outside and he looked out of the window. Spotting his parents getting out of the car, he headed to the door.

"Mom, dad." He smiled, happily. "Right on time as always."

"Arthur!" His mother smiled, enveloping him in a warm hug. "Are you excited?"

Arthur shrugged. "A little nervous, I guess." He admitted. "The amount of people there, I'm not looking forward to having to head up on stage."

Arthur's father appeared behind them. "You'll be fine. We'll all be there to support you." He smiled, clapping Arthur on the back jovially. "Speaking of 'all', did you invite Eames?"

Arthur blinked in surprise. "Yes." He admitted. "But he couldn't make it, he's working."

His mother nodded, smiling. "Do you have something you want to tell us, maybe?" She teased.

Arthur sighed, grinning. "If you think you already know, why make me tell you?" He pointed out. "Yes, well, since you obviously know, Eames and I are together."

His parents exclaimed in delight, expressing their desire to meet Eames at the first opportunity. Arthur promised he would talk to Eames about visiting over the summer. He managed to distract them from further questions about Eames by reminding them that they'd agreed to have lunch with Ariadne, Dom and Mal, and their parents, at Clarksons. Yusuf, of course, was coming too.

The lunch was a casual affair. Arthur was greeted like an old friend by Dom's parents and Miles took the time to chat to Arthur, asking him if he'd found a new job, and how things were with Eames. Arthur responded politely and friendly enough. He couldn't hold a grudge against him, especially not after everything that happened. Arthur's parents were surprised when Arthur opted to sit next to Yusuf and Ariadne, rather than Dom and Mal. Afterwards, Arthur explained that it wasn't out of spite or pettiness; with everything that had happened he'd grown a lot closer to Yusuf and Ariadne, although he missed Dom and Mal a lot.

Eventually, they had to leave for the amphitheatre. Arthur donned his graduation gown and cap, and together with his parents, and Yusuf, who couldn't go with Ariadne because her car was full, they left for the graduation. Upon arrival, the soon-to-be graduates disappeared behind a screen. When everyone was settled, the students began filing out, signalling the start of the graduation ceremony. The Star-Spangled Banner began to play, and then everyone took their seats. The majority of the start of the ceremony was taken up by speeches, before finally, the students lined up at the side of the stage. One by one, they were called up to receive their diploma. When it was Arthur's turn, he shook hands with the Dean and took his diploma, murmuring his thanks. He turned to the audience to pose for a photograph, and his eyes searched the crowd for his parents. He found them easily and smiled, his eyes running along the row to Yusuf, and then to Eames. Eames?

Arthur's eyes widened in shock and Eames smiled back and winked. Just in time, Arthur remembered himself and looked at the camera, smiling, but desperate to get off the stage and see his boyfriend. He waited impatiently until Mal was called, and he watched her gracefully pose for her photograph, before heading down to stand between Arthur and Dom. She seemed a lot more herself again, which Arthur could only be thankful for. That Mal had still managed to maintain her education while struggling with schizophrenia was something Arthur could only admire.

Finally, everyone had received their diplomas and the turning of the tassels commenced. Everyone cheered and clapped, before dispersing to see their families. Oblivious to everyone else around him, Arthur ran up to Eames, throwing himself into his arms.

"Congratulations, darling." Eames murmured, softly. "I'm so proud of you."

"How did you get here?" Arthur choked. "Christ, Eames, Cobol…"

"I got the statuette last night, I went back in after the police had left. Nobody would expect two attempted robberies in one night. I couldn't let you down, Arthur. If everything else we have is fucked to the high heavens, I wanted us to have this."

Arthur kissed him, uncaring of who could see them or where they were. "I love you, you absolutely fucking idiot." He glared, when he pulled away. "Don't ever pull something like that again."

Eames just grinned at him, and Arthur took his hand. "Come on, you need to meet my parents."

Eames blanched, to his amusement, but he followed Arthur dutifully. "Mom, Dad, this is Eames."

Arthur's mother laughed. "I should hope so with the display you've just put on. Pleasure to meet you, Eames." She offered her hand.

"The pleasure's all mine, Mrs. Levine." Eames smiled, smoothly, kissing her hand.

She laughed. "Oh, I like this one, Arthur."

Eames smiled, and turned to shake hands with Arthur's father. "Mr Levine." He inclined his head respectfully.

Mr Levine surveyed him, appraisingly. "Good, firm handshake." He said approvingly. "Good to meet you, Eames. Will you be staying with us at Arthur's dorm?"

"No, sir." Eames said respectfully. "I'm staying with Yusuf, he's an old friend from college."

Arthur watched Eames charm his parents, amused. Turning away, his eyes drifted over his friends, Ariadne who was showing Yusuf her diploma, excitedly, and Dom and Mal who were holding hands and talking to their parents. Arthur's eyes fell on Nash, who was standing talking to his own parents awkwardly. Arthur took Eames' hand.

"There's something I need to do." He said to Eames, quietly. "Excuse us for a moment, mom, dad."

He led Eames through the crowd towards Nash. After a few seconds Eames realised where they were going, and sighed, but didn't object.

"Lukas, can I talk to you for a moment?" Arthur said quietly. Nash turned, and his eyes widened fearfully when he spotted Eames. "No trouble, I promise." Arthur assured him.

Nash nodded, slowly, not taking his eyes off Eames, but he accompanied them to one side.

"Lukas, we left a lot of things unsaid that we should have spoken about, and I'm happy to take most of the responsibility for that." Arthur began. "I know Eames hit you, I know the extent of the damage, and while I never asked him to do it, I won't deny that it was well deserved."

Nash nodded. It was a good start, that he was willing to accept some of the blame.

"We were good friends once, even before we started dating." Arthur reminded him. "And while I don't think we'll ever get back to that, I don't want to feel like this every time I pass you in the street. I wanted to clear the air, and let you know that there's no hard feelings on my part, and I wish you the best of luck." He offered his hand.

Nash took it. "Thank you, Arthur. I'm sorry for everything I did, honestly. And I wish you luck too."

Eames stepped forward and offered his own hand. When Nash took it, tentatively, he grinned. "I, on the other hand, am not so forgiving. But I'm also not the type to bring up an old fight. So while I wish the ten plagues of Egypt on you, and then some, know that if Arthur forgives you, that's good enough for me."

He released Nash's hand and walked away, whistling. Arthur sighed.

"Don't mind him. He won't do anything, I promise." He nodded at Nash, and started to walk away. When Nash called him back, he paused.

"Arthur? Will you tell Ariadne … that I'm sorry? And that I don't expect her to forgive me, but I do miss her."

Arthur nodded once, and walked away, heading back over to his parents.

"Idiot." He hissed at Eames. "I was trying to clear the air."

Eames waved his hands, airily. "Ahh, he won't blame you. I was just making sure he knows that I don't forget easily."

Arthur shook his head. "What are your plans for now?"

"Yusuf and I are going to play video games." He grinned. "We decided earlier that we'd let you and Ariadne have the night with your family, and we'd make plans to see you tomorrow. We were just about to head off, actually."

"Actually, Ariadne's mother and I were just discussing the idea of having a celebratory dinner for the two of you. Dom and Mal have their own plans, it appears there's some sort of after party? Aren't you going?" Mrs Levine asked.

Arthur wrinkled his nose. "Absolutely not." He shuddered. "It's not my sort of thing, mom, as you well know. What were you saying about dinner?"

"Well, we were going to head out for dinner with Ariadne and her family, and we were wondering if you and Eames would like to join us?"

Eames smiled. "If it's not an imposition, I'd love to, thank you." He accepted, smoothly.

Arthur looked at him, wondering for not the first time how he'd managed to land someone like Eames. He would never understand how he was lucky enough to find someone like Eames who even looked twice at him. Arthur wasn't the kind to underestimate himself, and he recognised that they were well suited, but sometimes he looked at his boyfriend and realised how lucky he was.

"Ahh, Mr Levine, I was hoping to catch you." Arthur turned to see Professor Saito smiling down at him. "Your essay was exceedingly interesting, and most definitely one of the best I've ever had submitted. Mr Eames, how wonderful to see you again."

"Saito." Eames grinned, shaking his hand. "Of course it was, Arthur's work is always brilliant."

Saito raised an eyebrow. "Particularly when you are the subject matter?"

"I was?" Eames frowned, turning to Arthur, who blushed. "Remind me again what this assignment was about?"

Saito laughed. "I'm sure Mr Levine will explain it to you. It was a rather illuminating report, and as it happens, quite relevant to the course material I will be teaching next year. I wanted to speak to you, Mr Levine, about the possibility of your coming in to my introductory lecture in September and speaking to my freshman class?"

"Me?" Arthur asked, taken aback. "What about?"

Saito smiled. "My new course will focus on whether a relationship is stronger if you meet online or in person. You have experience in both aspects, and I feel you would be an ideal candidate to address my class, if you are willing?"

"Of course sir, if you think it would be useful." Arthur agreed.

Saito nodded, approvingly. "Excellent. Then I shall be in touch, Mr Levine. Enjoy your celebrations, and congratulations once again. Mr Eames, an honour to see you again."

"Bye Professor!" Eames waved cheekily. "So, Arthur, care to tell me about this 'illuminating report' of which I was the subject matter?" He raised an eyebrow.

Arthur blushed, furiously, but was saved from answering as Yusuf grabbed Eames by the shoulders. Eames just had time to kiss Arthur goodbye before Yusuf spirited him away, gesturing enthusiastically; no doubt about his experiment that was liable to blow up his apartment if he wasn't there soon. Arthur laughed and shook his head when Eames gestured that Arthur would tell him later about the assignment. Turning to his parents, Arthur smiled and they left the amphitheatre, where Arthur had finally completed his education.

* * *

**Yay! So I tried to aim for a really happy chapter, and I really hope you liked it! Let me know what you think, I love all your reviews! Much love! -DD**


	27. Sweet Embrace For You And You Alone

**Sorry for the delay, I've been working on a mermaid AU, and pretty snowed under with assignments. I'm going to be pretty busy for the next few months, but since there are only four chapters of La Vie left, I'll be trying to crank them out as quickly as I can!**

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Six: Sweet Embrace For You And You Alone**

Dinner was a lively, jovial affair. Arthur and Ariadne and their respective parents were present, as were Yusuf and Eames. Arthur's parents were thrilled to see the change in their son, how much of a positive influence the British boy had been on his life. Arthur had almost completely regained his confidence. Mr and Mrs Levine had taken to Eames immediately, and the conversation over the evening only served to strengthen their belief that Arthur was in capable hands.

It had been almost impossible to get a reservation anywhere in town, but Arthur, typing away on his phone innocently, had somehow managed it.

Arthur sat between Ariadne and his mother, talking about Mal and how well she seemed to be doing. His parents listened as Arthur described her many visit to the doctor over the semester. They were astounded when they found out how the knowledge of her schizophrenia had come to light, glancing at Eames, who was sitting opposite Arthur. Mrs Levine, for the first time, felt a little uncertain about the hold the British boy might have on her son. The fact that Arthur had instantly taken Eames' side over Mal's, who he had known for years, didn't sit well with her.

"Arthur?" She questioned. Arthur understood the unspoken question.

"I saw the kiss." Arthur said quietly. "I saw her pull away and slap him, and for a second, I believed her. Mom, she'd been acting odd all term, some of the things she said to me… about Nash." He bowed his head. "Eames looked so desperate for me to believe him, like he didn't understand what had just happened. Even if I were to doubt him, Yusuf vouched for him, and that was good enough for me, and Ariadne agreed."

He kept his voice down so that the others wouldn't hear him, but he snuck a glance towards Eames, who was looking at Yusuf, but there was a tightness in his jaw that betrayed him. Eames was listening.

"Eames is a good person." He said firmly. "I'm not saying Mal wasn't, but even if Yusuf hadn't vouched for him, I would have stopped and thought about it, and I would have made the same decision. I trust him."

He saw the tension leave Eames' shoulders and he smiled, turning his soft eyes to his boyfriend. Arthur's mother was satisfied. If Arthur was sure, that was good enough for her. As she returned to her meal, Arthur remembered the message Nash had asked him to pass on. He winced. Ariadne was not going to like this.

"Ari? I don't want to spoil your night, but there's something I need to talk to you about." Arthur said quietly.

Ariadne looked up in surprise. "What is it, Arthur?"

"I spoke to Lukas earlier."

Her mouth closed instantly, forming a thin line. Arthur held a hand up to stop her glaring at him. He could practically feel her disapproval and betrayal. Arthur knew she'd thought he would be the last person to bring up Nash.

"Hear me out." He requested. "I wanted to clear the air. We both live around here, Ariadne, and after what Eames did, I wanted to make sure that wouldn't happen again. I've forgiven him for what happened, but I'm not saying you should. That's between you and Nash. But he asked me to pass on a message, and that's what I'm doing. He said to tell you that he's sorry, and that he doesn't expect you to forgive him, but he misses you."

Ariadne frowned into her soup. Eventually, she sighed. "It's too late for us to repair what we had. I could maybe have forgiven him for what he did, if you weren't my friend too. But Arthur, I _introduced _you. I had to watch as one of my best friends destroyed the other. The guilt I felt, watching your confidence disappear. He made me feel like it was my fault. I can't forgive that." She admitted miserably.

Arthur wrapped his arm around her, squeezing tightly. "Don't worry about it. He said he didn't expect anything. I think he just needed to say it. I understand how you feel Ari, but it was _never _your fault. Besides, you're basically responsible for me meeting Eames, so you should focus on the fact that you introduced me to the love of my life."

She smiled up at him. "You know, I've heard a lot of doubts about you too. Mal, Dom, Yusuf… but I don't agree. I have faith that you both will make this work."

Arthur kissed her cheek in thanks, but didn't say anything. He turned his attention to Eames, who was smiling over at him, softly. Arthur returned the smile, unable to look away.

"I love you." Eames mouthed at him.

"I love you too." Arthur replied, smiling.

When everyone had finished eating, there were disputes over who would pay the bill. Before everything could get heated, Eames suggested everyone pay for themselves, and then there could be no quarrelling. Arthur grinned, pleased that Eames had found an inventive solution. Outside the restaurant, Ariadne and her parents said their farewells. Eames was staying with Yusuf, and Ariadne was spending the night with her parents. Yusuf slid into his car and Arthur winced. Poor Eames.

"We could drop you off at Yusuf's." He offered.

Eames laughed loudly. "I'm used to his driving by now, don't worry." He paused. "I'll have to leave the day after tomorrow. I need to get the statuette to Cobol."

Arthur nodded. "Then I'll see you tomorrow? I'll call you when my parents leave. It'll probably be after lunch."

The Brit nodded, but didn't make an effort to reach for Arthur, glancing hesitantly at the black car that belonged to Arthur's parents, who were waiting patiently inside. Arthur laughed and pulled Eames towards him, smiling as he pressed a kiss to Eames' lips.

"They're cool with it." He told Eames, who took that as a green light, and kissed Arthur softly and sweetly.

"I'll see you tomorrow, darling." He said, brushing his thumb along Arthur's cheekbone, before heading to Yusuf's van. Arthur slid into his parent's car, wondering exactly how ironic it would be if Eames was killed in a traffic collision caused by Yusuf's erratic driving.

"I like him." Arthur's mother admitted. "He looks at you like you're his whole world. You need to hold on to him, Arthur."

"I intend to." He agreed.

"He'll see you right." His dad said gruffly. Arthur was touched by his parent's approval and inwardly cheered. They had never liked Nash, but hadn't interfered. The fact that they liked Eames meant more to Arthur than he would ever admit.

They left early the next morning, just before lunch. Amid hugs and kisses, Arthur bid his parents farewell. He was moving out of the dorm next week; thanks to his work from Jacques, Arthur had easily managed to afford the deposit on a decent apartment that actually wasn't too far from Yusuf's. It was exciting, to really have his own place. But he would miss the dorm that had been his home for three years. It had seen everything; the end of his relationship with Nash, the start of his relationship with Eames… it was a sobering thought that he was leaving.

Ariadne herself was moving in with Yusuf, and Dom and Mal already had their own place. They'd moved out of their dorm just after the final exams. Arthur would be the last one to leave, and probably the last one to start working. He didn't have a job lined up, for now; he intended to keep working for Jacques, in order to pay his bills. He was hoping to talk to Eames about the possibility of working for Cobol, on the condition that he only worked with Eames. Unfortunately, he hadn't found the right words, knowing Eames would probably not take it well.

Eames came over just after lunch, and he and Arthur spent the afternoon messing around playing video games and watching movies, just enjoying their time together.

At around midnight, Eames leaned over and kissed Arthur softly. Taken by surprise, Arthur kissed him back, equally as soft. Breaking the kiss, Eames took his hand and began leading them towards the bedroom. Arthur quickly cottoned on and all but shoved Eames onto the bed. The Brit laughed as his head hit the pillows, but was quickly stifled as Arthur climbed on top of him. He tugged at Eames' bottom lip with his teeth and the thief groaned.

"Darling!" He made a guttural sound in his throat as he pulled Arthur's t-shirt over his head, running his hand over the pale, exposed skin.

Arthur ran his lips over Eames' jawline, nibbling his ear lobe, tugging at the hem of his shirt. Eames helped Arthur remove his shirt, before he reached for the Arthur's zipper. He eased the jeans over Arthur's slim hips, to reveal his tight briefs. Arthur's breath hitched, and he remembered that he needed to talk to Eames. If they fell into bed now, he probably wouldn't get another chance to ask.

"Eames, wait a minute." Arthur said, his voice hoarse. "There's something I want to talk to you about."

The Brit groaned. "Can't it wait, darling?" He asked, pressing a rough kiss to Arthur's neck. Arthur moaned and was almost distracted.

"I want to work for Cobol." He gasped.

Eames froze, and pulled away immediately, his grey eyes dark with fury as he stared at Arthur in sheer disbelief.

"No, you don't." He said firmly. "This isn't the sort of life you want, or the sort of life I want for you. The answer is no."

Arthur glared at him. "I wasn't asking for your permission, Eames. I want us to talk about this like the adults we are. You agreed not to make decisions for me."

"I did." Eames agreed. "And I won't, on every other count. Arthur, listen to me. If you want to work in my line of work, that's fine. But not Cobol."

Arthur shook his head, his lips pressed together firmly in a line. "I want to work with you. Listen, Eames, the few times I've helped you, I've loved it. The research we did for the North Korea job, helping you out of the museum in Mexico… it gave me a thrill I've never experienced before. This is what I want to do."

Eames slid off the bed, throwing Arthur's t-shirt at him, grabbing his own and throwing it on, angrily. "You have no idea what you're asking for."

"Don't patronise me." Arthur snapped. "I know _exactly_ what I'm asking for."

Eames shook his head. "I don't think you do." He growled. "Everything you take for granted now, you'd never be able to get that back, Arthur. You're throwing your life away, and you're only fucking twenty. I'm not going to let you do it; think about what it would do to your friends if you just left."

"Don't act like you're being all noble, Eames. If you don't want me involved, just say so, but don't make out like you're doing this for my benefit." Arthur sneered at him, sliding off the bed and pulling his jeans up.

"Fine!" Eames roared. "For the first time in nearly four years, I've got a family, Arthur! You, Yusuf, Ariadne… you're the closest thing to a family I can have. Now look at me and tell me that if you run off with Cobol, that Ariadne and Yusuf will forgive me. Because I know otherwise."

Arthur looked at him in surprise. "I don't know." He said honestly. "But I want this, and I'm not going to let my friends' opinions of your line of work dictate my choices."

"There is no choice. Even if they were to forgive me, I still wouldn't let you come with me. This isn't what I want for you. I don't want you anywhere near Cobol, Arthur, I'm sorry."

Arthur took a deep breath. "And that's your final say on the matter?" He asked, calmly.

Eames nodded once. "Yes."

"Get out." Arthur said coldly.

Eames looked over at him in disbelief. "You're throwing me out?"

Arthur nodded, stiffly. "I warned you when we got together. We're either in this together, as equals, or you can sod off."

Eames' expression closed off. Without another word, he left the bedroom, grabbing any of his belongings that he'd unpacked and shoving them into his bag. Arthur watched him, his expression one that Eames had never seen before, and couldn't place. When the last of his belongings were in his bag, Eames slipped on his shoes, and walked to the door. Arthur opened it for him.

Eames paused, just outside, and turned back. "I can't, you know. Can't, not won't. I would accept anything else, but not Cobol. I can't be responsible for what they can do. One screw up and it's a death sentence on us both."

Arthur looked away, which hurt Eames more than when Arthur had told him to leave. This felt dismissive somehow.

Eames felt his chest clench painfully. "So where does this leave us?"

Arthur shrugged. "You tell me."

Eames just shook his head, and turned and walked away. Arthur didn't stay and watch him. He closed his door and held back his tears. He had to stand his ground; Eames was treating him like a child, or an inferior, someone that he had to make decisions for. This was the only choice Arthur had. So why did it feel like his world was collapsing?

* * *

Eames returned home the following day, unable to delay the delivery of the statuette any further. He didn't speak to Arthur at all before he left. The American didn't know he'd left at all until Ariadne called him to say she'd just driven Eames to the airport. He put the phone down, immediately, a mixture of hurt and anger clouding him.

It took two weeks for Arthur to calm down enough to contact Eames. He sent a long e-mail, saying he was sorry for the way he reacted, and that maybe they should talk and see where things were between them. Eames replied a few days later, after reading the e-mail a million times from his hotel room in Buenos Aires.

_**Arthur,**_

_**Thanks for your e-mail. I'm really glad to hear from you.**_

_**I agree – we do need to talk, but I'm working in Argentina right now. I'm not sure how long this will take. Maybe a few months. But I don't want to leave things like this between us, so for now, all I can say is that I'm sorry too, but my decision still stands.**_

_**I'll call you when I get back.**_

_**I love you.**_

_**Eames**_

Arthur didn't reply to the e-mail, but Eames knew that the American was simply waiting until Eames finished the job before they talked.

Twelve weeks after Arthur's graduation, Eames finally returned home from the job. He should have finished three weeks ago, but thoughts of Arthur had distracted him. He didn't know where their relationship was at, if there even was a relationship any more .Eames felt like his chest was in constant agony, any thought of Arthur made him want to cry.

Dropping his bag, Eames lay back on his bed, miserably, jumping when his phone buzzed to signal a new e-mail. He snatched it up immediately.

_**Hey Eames,**_

_**I hope things are going well, and you're safe.**_

_**This week is going to be pretty busy for me, so I thought I'd let you know, just in case you're back. I have Saito's lecture tomorrow, you remember he asked me to come in and speak to his freshman year? I've spent most of the last few weeks preparing what I was going to say.**_

_**Ariadne and Yusuf are coming over on Saturday, we're going to get take out and watch a bad movie, and then if you're free, I can give you a call? Seriously, don't worry about it if you can't – I don't want a repeat of Mexico.**_

_**Last night, I remembered that I never did tell you about my final assignment. The subject was the difference between meeting people online and in person, and I used us as a case study. I wrote about all the factors that can affect a friendship, like nerves, different lifestyles, different interests, and how an online interaction can take all that away. Because I found it difficult to communicate with people socially, Twitter and e-mailing took away any pressure I felt, and any difficulties we had with our different tastes were ignored because we talked about the things we did have in common. I pointed out that, when we did meet in person, our friendship was already as strong, if not stronger, than bonds formed face-to-face, and I found it easy to get along with you.**_

_**My conclusion was that online introductions can help push nerves aside and anything that could be considered a social barrier and can form relationships stronger than most that are made face-to-face.**_

_**I don't actually know why I'm telling you this. Sort of an apology I guess. But we'll talk more when you're home.**_

_**I better head off now, I've got to drop by Saito's office and run my notes past him.**_

_**Stay safe, Eames. Call me when you get back.**_

_**I love you,**_

_**Arthur**_

Eames read the e-mail, frowning. What was so busy about this week? He glanced at his calendar. _Shit_. Arthur's birthday was in two days, and he'd made no plans at all for it. He began running around the house, throwing his laundry in the washing machine while repacking his bag, and simultaneously trying to book his flight.

"Rob!" He called. "Where are you?"

Rob appeared in the doorway, holding a rolled-up magazine that he'd obviously just been reading. He glanced at Eames, noticing he was packing rather than unpacking, and shook his head. "Let me guess. Los Angeles?"

Eames shrugged. "It's Arthur's birthday the day after tomorrow. I'd completely forgotten. I've got to leave as soon as I'm done packing."

Rob looked hesitant. "Eames, is everything good with you and Arthur? Just when you got back from Los Angeles, you were in a kind of a bad mood."

"No I wasn't." Eames protested, frowning.

Robert looked at him, unamused. "Dude, you told me to shut the fuck up when I offered you a cup of tea. You were in a seriously bad mood."

Eames sighed. "I'm sorry, Rob, I didn't mean to take it out on you. Arthur and I… we just had a disagreement, that's all."

Fischer didn't look convinced, just raised a sceptical brow. Eames sighed again. "Fine, fine. Look, Arthur told me he wanted to work with me, and I wouldn't let him. How could I? You know what Cobol are like. Arthur got pissed that I was making the decision for him, and threw me out."

A crack on the side of Eames' head took him completely by surprise. "What the fuck?" He yelped; ducking as Rob took another swing at him with the magazine. "What are you doing? Hey!"

"I'm getting really sick of your shit, Eames. That goes for Arthur too. You just need to start listening to each other, stop doubting each other; and most of all learn to fucking compromise. So he wants to work with you. You don't want him to work for Cobol. So let him work with you unofficially. Split your pay, take him with you on jobs, let him save your ass when its needs saving, and _don't tell Cobol_."

Eames looked at Fischer like he'd grown an extra head. "When did you get so wise?"

"When I became your bloody marriage counsellor! Now go on, off with you. Go and save your relationship. And I don't want to hear of any more shit happening between you two. Jesus, Eames, you two are made for each other. Why are you both so set on throwing it away?"

Eames' expression softened, and he grinned. "Rob, if I wasn't so totally in love with Arthur, I would kiss you, you absolute genius, you."

"I won't tell Arthur you said that. No point in giving the poor boy a complex. Now go on, catch your flight, and don't even think about coming back until you've sorted it, because you won't be getting in." Rob told him, pushing Eames towards the stairs.

"You're forgetting I own this house!" Eames called as he leapt down them.

"No I'm not, I just don't care. I'll change the locks!" Rob called. "Good luck, Eames."

Eames dashed into the street, letting the door slam behind him. He wasn't sure what sort of reception he would receive, or what the outcome of his trip to LA would be. All he knew was that he had to go. He had to try and save their relationship. Arthur was the best thing that had ever happened to him and Eames would do whatever he had to make him happy. Hailing a taxi, Eames was positive that no matter what his future held, Arthur would be the most important thing in it.

* * *

**Sorry the chapter was a little short, but I have a set plan of what I want to happen in each chapter, and this seemed the best place to stop. I'll try to get the next chapter up as quick as I can. But I usually post on tumblr shortly before I update, or if there's likely to be a delay, so if you want, you can follow me on there. My URL is diceandpokerchips, same as on here :)**


	28. I'll Die For You And This Compromise

**This chapter is a serious lot of speech, because it has Arthur lecturing as a big chunk of it, but it was important and I didn't want to miss it out. But I hope you enjoy it regardless.**

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Seven: I'll Die For You And This Compromise**

Eames arrived in Los Angeles early the next day. As soon as he left the airport, he hailed down a taxi. Giving the driver Yusuf's address, Eames dialled Arthur immediately.

"Eames?" Arthur picked up instantly.

"Hey, Arthur." Eames replied, awkwardly. The last time they'd spoken properly, they hadn't parted on good terms. Aside from the few e-mails they had sent, it had been almost three months since they last spoke.

"You got home safely then?" Arthur asked, hesitantly.

Eames smiled, relieved. Arthur clearly still cared about him. "Yeah, job was a piece of cake once I started. I just had to plan around a few awkward events."

He could sense the taxi driver was eavesdropping, so Eames was deliberately cryptic, but he did shoot the taxi driver a look, causing him to blush and concentrate on driving.

Satisfied, Eames listened to Arthur's response. "That's good."

There was silence, as neither of them knew what to say. Eames sighed. "Arthur, you realise this is _me_, right? We had a fight, plenty of people do it. We'll talk through it and see where we go from here."

Arthur sighed. "Yeah, I know. Eames, I don't want to put this off, but I can't do this now. I've got to grab some lunch and then I have to give that lecture…"

Eames could tell Arthur was getting worked up. "Don't worry about it." He interrupted. "We'll get round to it when you have the time. I know you're busy."

Arthur was quiet for a few moments. "I just don't want you to think I'm brushing you off. I love you, and it's so important to me that we sort this out."

"Yes, and I know that, and I love you too." Eames told him, patiently. "But I understand that you've got things to do. I just need to tell you, I'm not going to change my mind on this, Arthur. I need you to know that much. If you still want to talk, I'll call you tomorrow."

Without another word, Arthur ended the call.

Eames sighed, sadly. He had deliberately picked the fight, but it didn't make him feel any better. Leaning over, he tapped on the glass.

"Mate, there's been a slight change of plan. I need to go somewhere else."

The taxi pulled up outside the university that Eames had come to know very well. He paid the driver, leaving a generous tip. Sliding out, Eames grabbed his bag and stalked off in search of Saito's office. After a helpful point in the right direction from a student who was eyeing Eames appreciatively, the Brit found it. He knocked on the open door.

Saito looked up and raised an eyebrow. "Mr Eames! To what do I owe the unexpected pleasure?"

"I came to ask for a favour." Eames entered the luxurious office, confidently. "I want to sit in the lecture that Arthur's taking this afternoon, but I don't want Arthur to know I'm there."

Saito raised an eyebrow. "May I ask why?"

Eames sighed. Saito was not the kind to give favours without expecting something in return. If Eames wanted to eavesdrop, then he would have to give Saito what he wanted – information.

"It's extremely complicated. May I sit?"

Saito gestured at the armchair opposite his. Eames took a seat, sighing. "I can't explain everything. It's far too long and would take up far too much of your time. Suffice to say I have a difficult decision to make where Arthur is concerned." Eames rubbed his forehead. "He wants to make a commitment that I'm not unopposed to, but it would have serious repercussions if we ever broke up. I need to know he's in this for the long haul, and the last time we spoke, we had a fight…"

Saito tilted his head back in understanding. "What better time to find out how someone truly feels about you when they think you can't hear, and if he's mad at you, you think he'll be more honest."

Eames leaned forward. "Exactly."

The professor stood suddenly, rubbing his chin. "I see no harm in you witnessing the lecture as long as there are no disruptions." He smiled. "In fact, from a sociological perspective, it would be very interesting indeed...but, Mr Eames, I feel I must warn you, you might not like what you hear."

Eames smiled. "To be honest, I'm not expecting to. But Arthur has surprised me more than once. Who knows?"

Saito nodded. "So how are you going to get into the lecture hall without him seeing you? He's already in there, running through his notes."

Eames grinned. "Leave that to me."

* * *

Eames stood outside of the lecture hall, out of sight, watching the students file in. When everyone was seated, and the last of them had taken their seats, Eames took out his phone, and typed in the code that would set off Arthur's alarm. Seconds later, he heard a siren ring out from inside the lecture hall, and he concealed himself behind a pillar. Sure enough, Arthur hurried out a few seconds later, calling his apologies. Grinning, Eames deactivated his GPS and walked casually into the lecture hall, hoping he'd deactivated it before Arthur had time to spot his location. Nodding at Saito, Eames walked to the back of the room and felt his phone ring.

He answered it immediately. "Sorry, darling, false alarm." He grinned. "I was just messing with the settings."

"Are you fucking serious?" Arthur hissed. "Eames, I'm about to start the fucking lecture, I thought you were in trouble!"

Before he could apologise, Arthur hung up. Eames gestured towards the door with his head, signifying that Arthur was coming, before ducking down behind a desk out of sight. Saito quickly explained to the class who Eames was, and instructed not to tip off Arthur to his presence.

Seconds later, a flustered Arthur entered the room, muttering his apologies. He slid his laptop on the desk, and composed himself. Eames felt a flutter of guilt when he saw his lover for the first time in months. Arthur clearly hadn't been sleeping well.

Saito stepped forward to introduce the class to Arthur, and then nodded for him to take over. Eames watched Arthur's nerves fall away, as he spoke confidently to the hall.

"My name is Arthur Levine, some of you might remember me from last year." He smiled, looking around the room. Eames ensured he was well hidden, but could also hear every word. "Last year, my thesis was on the social differences between meeting someone online and meeting someone in person. As it happens, this is quite relevant to the course you'll be studying this year, so Professor Saito asked me to come and give this lecture."

Professor Saito cleared his throat, and Arthur turned to him, expectantly. "I feel I should point out that Mr Levine's thesis was most definitely one of the best I've ever received. I perhaps would go as far as to say it was the best, and definitely the most illuminating."

Arthur inclined his head respectfully, flushing at the high praise. "Thank you, sir." He turned back to the class. "I should point out that any of you could achieve the same mark as I did. I had exactly the same time to complete the assignment and the same resources as you do. I've had no distinct advantage, so it's not unreasonable for some of you, if not all, to aim for a decent grade."

He could tell he'd captured their attention and started his lecture. "This time last year, I was sat in this very lecture hall, the same as you. I sat right there." He gestured to a spot in the third row. "I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life, but I knew that I was highly optimistic about this class. And I was right to be."

"For the first assignment, our class received the same task. We each had to use our personal social networking account to send a message to a complete stranger, under the pretence of sending them a questionnaire and see how many of us received a reply." Arthur told them, smiling. "I have to tell you, the thought terrified me. Those of you that know me, either from here or when I worked at the library will understand. I'd gone through some personal circumstances, and had developed a kind of social phobia. Interacting with anybody outside of my small circle of friends absolutely terrified me."

Eames listened quietly from behind the desk. He'd heard most of this before, but getting the full story was captivating and an odd experience. He hadn't realised the questionnaire was a red herring. Arthur had never mentioned that to him.

Arthur continued. "So I opted for Twitter. I tried to use a system of degrees of separation, and I clicked through to a friend's profile and scanned their followers. In doing so, I found an interesting name, and eventually decided to send my message to that person. His name was Eames."

The person on the desk next to Eames glanced down at him, questioningly and Eames nodded once, focusing on Arthur intently through the gap in the desks. He was desperate to hear what Arthur would say about him.

"I double-checked with my friend to ensure that Eames was a stranger, and that I'd never met them before. He told me Eames lived in England and that I shouldn't count on a reply. I didn't. There were one hundred and fifty-three students in my class. If any of us received a reply, what was the likelihood that it would be me?" He smiled around, shrugging. "Obviously, then, I was surprised when Eames did reply, and agreed to answer my questions. Unfortunately, he insisted that I had to answer the same questions in return. It wasn't an unreasonable request, since he was sharing information of his own, but I was edgy. I had trouble interacting with people, and sharing details of my life with a complete stranger wasn't exactly the best idea I've ever heard. But my friend vouched for him, so I did."

Arthur had a faraway look in his eyes now, and Eames spotted it instantly. He shifted slightly, desperate to know what Arthur was thinking.

"That was supposed to be it. The questionnaire was complete, I'd finished the necessary research. I intended to thank Eames and that would be the end of the conversation. But the more we spoke, the more I found out about him, the more I wanted to know. We became friends, and he became a big part of my life. We spoke every day, even exchanging numbers and clocking up stupidly expensive long distances calls, which I definitely wouldn't advise." He added.

"Eames helped me so much, even talking me into talking to someone at work, just little things to help me with my struggle to talk to people. And after about five months, he surprised me by turning up in Los Angeles. When I was him, a million different things went through my head. I was terrified that I wouldn't be able to speak to him, that my fear of interacting with people would interfere with our friendship and I would screw everything up. In actually, nothing has ever come more naturally to me."

Eames felt his chest soften and his head reel. So this was how Arthur had really felt when they met. He had always wondered how Arthur had managed to struggle past his social phobia and difficulty interacting in order to deal with the fact that Eames was there, in person.

"This was what I based my thesis on. With Eames, I had the opportunity to interact with someone online and strike up a friendship and then the same face-to-face. I can honestly say that if we'd met for the first time in person, things would have turned out a lot different and we wouldn't be half as close as we are." Arthur admitted. Eames flinched, but it was premature. "The fact is that we have entirely different personalities. Sometimes that's a good thing, sometimes it's bad. But interacting online gave us the opportunity to see what we were really like, and not how we present ourselves. Social barriers like nerves or different tastes were overcome because there was no outside pressure, we could talk about the things we actually _did _have in common."

Arthur glanced at his watch. "We're nearly out of time, and I want to leave some for questions, so I'll make just one more point. This year, I've been informed your thesis is slight different. Whereas mine focused on the differences between both ways of meeting someone, yours will focus on which makes a relationship stronger. My personal view is that if you remove any external pressures, then you'll find it easier to interact with someone, but to truly test the strength of a relationship, you can't just have it that easy. Eventually, hypothetically speaking, you'll need to face and overcome said barriers, and when you do, it will be the strongest relationship you've ever had. Any questions?"

Almost everyone raised their hand. Arthur glanced around the room and picked someone.

"Do you still talk to Eames now?" A female asked, looking remarkably doe-eyed. All hands went down. It seemed everyone had been asking the same question.

Arthur smiled. "Yes. Eames and I actually started a relationship a few months ago. But I should point out that none of you should expect to meet the love of your life on Twitter. It's exceedingly rare that something like this happens. If even one of you manages to strike up a friendship that lasts longer than a few months, I'd be surprised. Eames and I were lucky to have what we do, and we've had to work for it. He travels for work, so we can rarely visit each other."

A male student raised his hand. "So you had even more 'external pressures', on top of meeting online, you have the fact that you live in opposite countries to contend with."

"Yes, exactly." Arthur smiled, encouragingly. "But if we can overcome it, it only makes us stronger. That's a valid point you could raise in your assignment."

"_Psst_, kid!" Eames breathed from the floor. The student sitting next to him glanced down, inquiringly. "Ask him if it means the relationship is a failure if you _can't_ overcome something and I'll give you ten bucks."

The boy dutifully repeated the question, and Eames slipped him ten dollars. Arthur looked at him, in surprise.

"No." He replied firmly. "That's an excellent question, and I'm glad you asked it. Think about a friendship you've had, someone you were once inseparable with, but when you see each other now, you don't even say hello. Would you consider that friendship to be a failure?"

The student shook his head. "No, not at all."

"Exactly." Arthur said softly. "Just because something might not work out, it doesn't make it any less meaningful. At one point, that friend made you happy, that person was your whole world. If you meet a barrier that you can't overcome, and things fall apart, it doesn't demean what was once so important to you, and it doesn't mean you'll regret going along for the ride."

The bell rang, but nobody moved, captivated by the passion in which Arthur had lectured.

"Any other questions?" Arthur asked. "No? Good. Off you go, then."

Eames stayed where he was as everyone filed out. He watched as a few of them approached Arthur and thanked him for an interesting lecture. Eventually, just he, Arthur and Saito were left in the room. Arthur turned to his former professor.

"How did I do?" He asked, nervously.

Saito smiled at him. "You did very well, Mr Levine. Don't look so nervous, you were a natural. Would you be interested in doing this on a more permanent basis? I feel if you were willing to work for it, in another three years you could be qualified to teach this very course."

Arthur blinked in surprise. "Sir, that's an absolutely amazing offer, and if things were different, I would take you up on it instantly. But I've already found what I want to do, something I'm passionate about, and although I'm not sure it will ever happen, I can't imagine doing anything else."

Saito inclined his head. "Very well, but I will keep the offer open for you. If your career plans don't work out, even if it's a few years from now, there will be a place for you here."

Eames felt his breath catch in his throat. Saito had arranged for Eames' final stipulation. If Arthur was to work with him, then he wanted to make sure that Arthur at least had a back-up career for if things went sour between them. He didn't want to be responsible for Arthur destroying his life.

"I appreciate it, Professor. Thank you for everything." Arthur nodded, offering his hand.

Saito took it, smiling. "I wish you the best of luck, Arthur."

Eames waited until Arthur had left the room before standing up. "Thank you." Eames said solemnly to his former professor. "You've done more than I would ever have asked for."

Saito nodded and gestured for Eames to leave. "Go. You have a barrier to overcome, am I wrong?" He smirked as Eames headed for the door. "Oh, and Mr Eames? I know you were behind Mr Armstrong's question. You truly were one of my best students. It's a shame things turned out the way they did."

Eames smiled; one hand on the door. "Oh, I wouldn't say that." He smirked back at Saito before he let the door swing closed behind him. Once outside, he jogged towards the exit; he knew roughly the direction Arthur would be headed in, but he didn't actually know where Arthur was living now he'd moved out of the dorm, so Eames needed to catch up to him before he disappeared. Glancing around campus, Eames spotted him surrounded by a group of students that appeared to be from the lecture he was just in. He glanced around, curiously, noticing one of the girls was just standing listening, shyly, not contributing. Deciding it was time to make his appearance, Eames strolled over, casually.

"I swear, that was the most fascinating lecture I've ever had; I think Professor Saito is going to be a disappointment when we get started." A student said, regretfully.

Arthur laughed. "Not at all. If I'm honest, my interest in Sociology was limited before I took Professor Saito's class. He's an amazing lecturer and really knows his stuff. Trust me, you'll forget all about me once he's given one of his lectures."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that." Eames smirked. "Saito's fantastic, but even he's not that good."

Arthur spun around. "_Eames_?" He gaped. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Darling, it's your birthday tomorrow, you didn't think I would miss that, did you?" Eames grinned, leaning over to kiss Arthur on the cheek. When pulling away, he spotted the student he'd paid the ten bucks to. "Hey, thanks for asking that question. Best ten bucks I've ever spent."

Realisation dawned. "You were in the lecture." Arthur spoke slowly. "And paid one of the students to ask a question?"

Eames grinned. "Guilty as charged, darling." He turned to the rest of the students. "You know, something Arthur here forgot to mention in his lecture; we both were Saito's students at one point or another. See, before he moved to teach in Los Angeles, Saito taught the Sociology course at my university in London."

"Wow," One of the girls said dreamily. "It's like you two were really destined to meet."

Arthur smiled at Eames, who took Arthur's hand. He grinned around. "I'm glad you enjoyed Arthur's lecture. But I had a thirteen hour flight to London yesterday, and a ten hour one this morning, and I haven't seen Arthur in three months, so I really must steal him away now."

Arthur blushed furiously. "I really enjoyed giving the lecture today, and I hope I gave you some insight to the course. If any of you want me to recommend a source or are having a difficulty you don't want to talk to Professor Saito about, feel free to e-mail me. I've asked him to forward my contact details around."

"But that doesn't mean he'll write your assignments for you." Eames added. "So don't take the piss."

"Eames!" Arthur admonished him. "But he's right. I won't write your assignments for you, but I will respond to genuine questions. Good luck everyone."

He allowed Eames to lead him away. "That was rude." He told him, bluntly.

Eames shrugged. "I didn't want anyone to take advantage of your good nature, darling."

"Arthur!" Someone called. They lovers stopped and turned around, surprised. It was the shy girl who hadn't spoken up when everyone was around.

"I just wanted to say thank you." She blushed, her face turning bright red as she stared at the pavement. "Your lecture, it really opened my eyes. I lost my best friend recently, and we've been friends since we were old enough to talk. We had been growing apart for a while and I tried to cling on to her for so long, but now we just don't talk at all. I'd been feeling really upset, and finding it so hard to talk to other people to make new friends, because I felt like I'd failed. But what you said, about things not working out doesn't mean it was a failure, I understand now. And you're a role model to everyone who was ever shy or found it hard to talk to someone."

She walked away before Arthur could reply. He watched, taken aback as she walked up to the group of girls who had previously approached Arthur, and introduced herself. Arthur turned to Eames, who was smiling at him.

"You should be proud of yourself. You've just helped her overcome exactly what you had to deal with. You know how hard it was for her to do that." Eames said quietly.

"But you helped me." Arthur pointed out. "I wouldn't have even been able to give the lecture if I hadn't met you."

Eames kissed him, softly and sweetly. "I love you, you know. And I want you to work with me on jobs. But I have stipulations."

Arthur gaped at him, as Eames started leading them along the street. "What changed your mind? Only an hour or so ago, you said…?"

"I know." Eames said seriously. "I needed to be sure that you weren't rushing into this. I engineered a fight so you could give this lecture with a clear head. I trust that you know what you're doing, Arthur. But I had to be sure."

Arthur nodded. "Stipulations?"

"If it turns out that you don't want to do this anymore, or if we don't work out, I want you to take Saito up on his offer. Secondly, you work with me _unofficially_. I split the take with you evenly and you come with me. If Cobol ever start to suspect anything, it stops immediately. I want your word that you won't try to get involved if Cobol get wind of anything."

"Agreed." Arthur said instantly. "I can live with that. On the condition that you let me start again when things die down."

"Done." Eames agreed. "But I have one more stipulation." He hesitated.

"Which is?" Arthur narrowed his eyes suspiciously, stopping dead.

Eames struggled to find the right words, the words that would make Arthur react the least angrily, but he knew that they were all going to have the same effect.

"If something goes wrong, and I have to run, you let me run alone. You stay put and keep your head down until I can contact you."

"No." Arthur said instantly, furiously. "How can you even ask me that? Do you think I'm stupid? I know that the second you skip out, I'll never see or hear from you again! If you run, I'm coming with you."

Eames looked at him, beseechingly. "If they find me, they'll kill me and everyone with me. Do you understand that? I can't hide from them forever, Arthur, if you're caught with me, you'll die."

"I know the risks!" Arthur snapped. "Don't you think I've thought about this? You're acting like I'm in a hurry to throw my life away. Quite frankly, I enjoy living!" He sighed, calming down. "Eames, look, I've weighed up the pros and cons. I know how this works. I lose my family and my friends; I risk my life. But it's weighted against doing a job that I enjoy, the thrill I get from it, working with the man I want to spend the rest of my life with, however long or short it might be, and the chance to save your ass if I ever need to. I'll agree to your other stipulations Eames, but abandoning you if things go wrong? That's a deal-breaker."

Eames nodded, closing his eyes and pressing a kiss to Arthur's forehead. "Alright."

He smiled, happily. The fact that Arthur was determined to stand by him, coupled with everything he'd heard in the lecture that morning had consolidated Eames' faith in Arthur, in their relationship. And he had to admit, they would make a formidable team. He was just uneasy that Cobol would get wind of Arthur's scent, and then it would be both their necks on the line.

"Also, that GPS is to be used for emergencies _only_." Arthur scowled, punching Eames in the arm. "I absolutely shit myself that you were in trouble."

Eames grinned. "Well, I needed to get you out of the room so I could sneak in."

"And that's another thing, you always just turn up and surprise me. Are you ever going to call and say you're coming?" Arthur asked, raising an eyebrow, but he couldn't stifle his laughter.

Eames smirked and let Arthur pull him along the street, laughing happily. "Of course not, darling. Where's the fun in that?"

* * *

**Okay, so I intended to fit a lot more in this chapter than I actually did, so I'm not sure if I'll fit the rest of the fic into just three chapters. I'll have to see how things go. I hope you enjoyed the chapter, please review and let me know!**


	29. They Build It Up Just To Burn It

**Okay, I'm so sorry for how long this took me to update, but I've been so busy with assignments and revision, and then I got some anon hate on AO3 which totally shattered my confidence and made me feel like I didn't want to write. This chapter, in its uncensored form, contains scenes of sexual content. If you want those added scenes, they can be found on AO3.**

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Eight: They Build It Up Just To Burn It Back Down**

"What are you going to tell everyone?" Eames asked, as they walked down the street, hand-in-hand.

Arthur looked at him, oddly. "The truth. What else would I tell them?"

Eames shook his head. "That's not what I meant, darling. Of course you're going to tell them the truth, and I can only hope that they won't hate me too much for it. I meant, what are you going to tell them about the fact that you'll never see them again?"

Arthur bowed his head. "I have no idea. I know Yusuf will understand, but Ari? I can't imagine she'll like it at all, or even understand."

Before the Brit could open his mouth to reply, Arthur smiled up at him, sadly. "It doesn't matter, Eames. It's not like I'll be able to speak to her again anyway."

Eames growled and turned to Arthur, pushing him into the wall. "That is _not_ how I want this to go, Arthur." He snapped. "I'm agreeing to your demand that you come with me, even though it places both of us in danger. You're useful with a computer, I understand, but if it came to a fight, if Cobol found us, you would be a liability. And I'm dismissing all of this, _all of it_, because I love you and I want you to come with me. All I ask in return is that you try to keep your life as normal as possible, that you keep your friends, have a job lined up, just in case this doesn't work."

He took a deep breath, stepping back so there was distance between them. "I know you, Arthur. If Ariadne takes this badly it will tear you apart. So let's not pretend otherwise, hmm?" He tightened the grip on his duffel bag and turned, carrying on down the street in the direction they had previously been heading.

"Eames, I'm sorry." Arthur caught up with him and grabbed his elbow. "Hey, look, I know, I get it. You know me better than anyone, Eames, and I'm not going to deny that I'll be devastated if Ariadne doesn't accept my choice. I'm not downplaying it. I'm not." He added at Eames' sceptical look. "I'm just … focusing on the positives. I lose her, but I get _you_."

Eames looked at him soberly. "I wish you could understand what I would give for you to not have to make this choice, darling. For you to keep both of us."

Arthur slipped his hand into Eames'. "I know." He smiled. "I've never doubted that for a second."

He led Eames down the street, turning the corner in the opposite direction to the dorm that Eames had visited so regularly. It was a shame that they would never again meet in the room that held such fond memories for them, but it was kind of exciting that Arthur had an apartment now too.

"So what are your plans for this evening? Initially, you hadn't planned to call me until tomorrow, so what did you need to do tonight?"

Arthur shrugged. "Just another assignment for Jacques. It's almost finished; it should take me a couple of hours at most, then I'm all yours."

"Is that a promise?" Eames grinned. Arthur laughed, and tugged at his arm, as he led them towards what Eames assumed was Arthur's apartment, an assumption which was confirmed when Arthur took out his key. They walked inside and Eames took his time to look around the light, open space.

He nodded approvingly. "It's a beautiful apartment." He clutched his bag, awkwardly, not sure where to put it.

Arthur noticed and hid his smile. "Come on, I'll show you where the bedroom is so you can unpack."

He opened one of the doors and gestured for Eames to go in. "There's plenty of space in the closet." Arthur told him.

Eames didn't bother to unpack. He was only staying for a few days, so he just dropped his bag in the corner of the bedroom, before wrapping his arms around Arthur.

"Hi." He grinned.

Arthur returned the grin. "Hello." He said softly, closing the gap between them and sealing their lips together. The touch sent sparks through their body, and Eames sighed happily into the kiss. He'd missed this. Missed Arthur. The last few months had been torture for both of them, not knowing where they stood. They had yet to broach that conversation, but Eames was confident that their issues had been more or less overcome when he'd agreed to let Arthur come with him.

After a few moments, they broke away for air. Arthur's lips were red and swollen, and his eyes were glazed over. Eames had no doubt that he looked exactly the same.

"I've missed you, darling." He told Arthur.

Arthur smiled. "I've missed you too, Eames." He paused, and glanced at the living room. Eames knew that Arthur wanted to work on Jacques' assignment, but was too polite to say so.

"Come on, you should probably get your report thing finished. I'll read quietly in here, until you're done." He smiled.

His boyfriend shrugged. "You can help if you like. Or at least watch what I'm doing, pick up some tips."

Eames considered it. It could be useful, and it wouldn't do any harm. And it definitely beat sitting on his own, reading.

"Alright." He smiled. "Let's see what you're doing then."

They headed back through to the living room and Arthur opened his laptop lid, settling down on the sofa. He gestured for Eames to sit next to him, which he did. Arthur opened the document detailing all of the work he'd done so far, and quickly explained it to Eames.

"I'm not actually sure what Jacques does. If I had to guess, I'd say he works for Interpol, but freelance. They come to him when they're out of their depth, and he and I find out anything we can on the subject."

Eames nodded, slowly. "Kind of like in The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo." At Arthur's affirmation, he continued. "So what's this assignment on?"

"I have the name of a gang, as well as suspected members. I need to find out anything I can, including any targets, previous targets, previous members, who's in charge. You get the idea."

Eames nodded. "Targets?"

"They're art thieves." Arthur told him. "Quite skilled at it too, from what I've seen so far. The leader, his code name is September; he's walked out of the _Musée du Louvre _with a painting and some 18th century candlesticks, from what I've gathered so far. How the fuck can you walk out of the_ Louvre_ with a painting?"

The Brit looked affronted. "I could. I could walk out with the Mona Lisa if I wanted to."

Arthur looked horrified. "You wouldn't, would you? The Mona Lisa deserves to be shared with the world."

"Not for my own amusement. If Cobol asked me to, I'd have to." Eames shrugged. "But I wouldn't just steal it to prove a point."

Arthur grinned and returned to his work. "Yeah, so I've just got to find out where their next target is, and then I can send the assignment to Jacques."

Eames nodded. "I'll sit here and watch quietly."

He did just that, although he paid more attention to Arthur than he did the computer, cataloguing each of Arthur's expressions; concentrating, the gleam in his eye when he bypassed a particularly difficult firewall, frustration when he hit yet another security key. Eames expected that it would take a few hours to find out what Arthur needed to know; surely nobody would be stupid enough to leave information on their next mark on their computer? It was a rookie mistake, and one Cobol would never tolerate.

It surprised him, then, when it took Arthur less than thirty minutes to find the file he needed. He blinked, and looked over at the computer screen. 'September' had neglected to clear his search history, and had researched a particular painting and a museum multiple times. Arthur pulled his e-mails, finding one to an anonymous e-mail address with just one word: Saturday. Eames couldn't deny, he was impressed.

Arthur added the details in his document and sent a copy to Jacques' e-mail. Eames stared as Arthur typed in the e-mail address: it was just a string of seemingly random letters and numbers.

"He's as security conscious as I am." He noted with astonishment, but with a hint of approval. He understood that it was necessary.

Arthur laughed. "He might work for Interpol, but they'd catch him if they could." He admitted. "But I'm pretty sure they never will." He closed his laptop. "So, what did you want to do now? Are you hungry? Shit, I didn't offer you a drink or anything. I'm sorry."

Eames chuckled. "It's fine, darling. I thought I would make us dinner if you were amenable to the idea?"

"Oh god, yes." Arthur said quickly. "I love your cooking."

Eames laughed. "Okay. Anything in particular?"

Arthur shook his head. "Surprise me." He tried to follow Eames into the kitchen, but a disapproving look from Eames had him backing away, settling in front of the television. When Eames came back, he was clutching a bowl of tomato soup and grilled cheese. Arthur felt his stomach grumble at the smell of the delicious food and tucked in eagerly. Eames grinned, returning for his own food, and sat down next to Arthur.

"Jesus, I've missed you." Arthur groaned. Eames chuckled and Arthur mock-glared at him.

"I was referring to the soup, and not you." He sniffed. Eames narrowed his eyes, playfully.

"Is that so?" He asked, calmly. "Well, we'll just see if I ever cook for you again, Arthur Levine."

Arthur raised his eyebrows. "Are we really going to go for the full name thing?"

Eames' jaw dropped, horrified. "Now, now, darling, you _promised_ me that you would never utter that word aloud. There's a reason I go by only my surname."

Arthur laughed. "I was just teasing." He smirked. "I won't say it. But I do like it." He admitted. "It's very… upper class."

The Brit winced. "Yeah, well I hate it, so how about we never bring it up again."

They ate the rest of their dinner companionably, watching reruns of Family Guy. Around nine o'clock, Eames began to nod off, jerking awake every few seconds, until Arthur told him to go to bed.

"Go on. You've had two long flights and you're clearly jetlagged. I'll follow you in a minute; I'm just going to watch the rest of this episode."

Eames looked torn, but when he yawned again he did as he was told. He felt awkward, getting ready to sleep in Arthur's bed without Arthur actually being there. But he was falling asleep where he stood; Eames had no doubt that by the time Arthur came to bed, he would be fast asleep. Stripping down to his boxers, Eames slipped under the covers. As soon as his head hit the pillow, he was asleep.

* * *

The next morning, he awoke to find his arms wrapped firmly around Arthur, with the American's head on his chest. It was their usual sleeping position, and it made Eames' heart leap to know that this hadn't changed. That even in sleep, they needed to be as close as possible. He pressed a kiss to the top of Arthur's head, and watched as his eyes fluttered open.

"Morning." Arthur smiled sleepily.

"Good morning, darling. Happy birthday." Eames whispered softly.

Arthur cocked his head. "Oh yeah. I'm twenty one now. Only two years between us again."

"Do you want your present now or later?" Eames asked.

Arthur smiled at him, his eyes still heavy with sleep. "Later. What time is it?"

Eames glanced at his watch and whistled. "Almost eleven. I guess we both needed to catch up on sleep, considering the first thing I noticed about you was the bags under your eyes. What's been keeping you up?"

"This assignment, balanced with the fact that the last time we spoke, we had a fight. I thought I was going to lose you, so I lost a little sleep over it." Arthur told him calmly. "Anything else you want to lecture me on, _mom_?" He grinned.

Eames scowled and shoved him. "Birthday or not, I will put you over my knee." He growled.

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Is that a promise? Spanking isn't really my thing." He admitted.

Eames smirked. "Nor mine." He confessed. "Come on, birthday boy, stop trying my patience and give me a good morning kiss."

"Nuh-uh." Arthur slid out of bed, away from Eames' reach. "Morning breath. When we've brushed our teeth."

Eames groaned. "So demanding." Arthur turned to disappear into the bathroom, when Eames stopped him.

"Arthur? You know that you won't lose me, right? We could fight every day, and my feelings for you would never change."

Arthur smiled at him. "I'm starting to realise that, yes."

He disappeared into the bathroom to brush his teeth. It was true; Eames could never promise that Arthur would never lose him; there were too many external influences, particularly Cobol, but he could assure that Arthur that he would never willingly leave. And that was a promise that Arthur could put faith in.

"So, what are your plans for today?" Eames asked, when they were both dressed and had brushed their teeth.

"_Our_ plans involve Yusuf and Ariadne coming over with takeout and a movie, but that's not until tonight. I thought maybe we could go to the shopping outlet; it's not far from here. About a thirty minute bus journey from campus."

Eames agreed readily. "Whatever you want, darling."

They decided to grab an early lunch before they started their shopping. Arthur dragged Eames around the technology store, looking longingly at a laptop that, to Eames, appeared to be ridiculously expensive for no reasons. It wasn't until he offered to buy it for Arthur that the American left the store, dragging Eames away before he did something apparently stupid, like buy the damn thing.

They passed a drug store, and Arthur paused. "Wait here a moment." He told Eames, disappearing inside. He emerged a few moments later, stuffing a paper bag into his pocket, but he didn't offer an explanation, so Eames didn't ask.

They returned home laden with bags, mostly Arthur's, although Eames had bought a few t-shirts. Arthur had bought a lot of t-shirts and jeans, which was long overdue. He still had a lot of shirts and slacks, although he tried to dress more casual now. Eames wondered if Arthur's sudden decision to buy more casualwear was due to the fact that he would be coming on recon trips and would need to blend in. He had to admit, having Arthur there would look a lot less suspicious. Their obvious chemistry couldn't be faked, and who would suspect two young lovers of plotting to rob somewhere? Eames tried to look at things in a logical view, but when it came down to it, whether Arthur was useful or not didn't come into it. Plain and simple, he wanted Arthur with him.

They arrived back at Arthur's apartment around six, just in time to put away their shopping before Yusuf and Ariadne arrived.

"Eames!" Yusuf clapped him on the back. "It's great to see you! I didn't know you were coming?"

"Last minute decision. I only got here yesterday." Eames grinned. "Ariadne! How lovely to see you again!" He pulled her in for a hug. He'd grown quite fond of the feisty American woman.

"Ever the charmer, Eames." Ariadne grinned. "Happy birthday, Arthur!"

She hugged her oldest friend, warmly, before handing him a gift bag. Arthur acknowledged Yusuf with a hug and a grin, before Ariadne coughed and looked pointedly at the gift bag. Grinning, Arthur opened the card and displayed it proudly on the coffee table. He opened the book-shaped gift to find a leather-bound copy of _Les Misérables_, the original French version.

"Ari!" Arthur gasped, running his hands over the cover reverently. "This is beautiful. Thank you, both of you." He nodded at Yusuf.

Yusuf grinned. "Don't give me any credit, she picked the gift, I just split the bill."

Arthur laughed, and placed the book to one side, fully intent on reading it later. Eames leaned over and peeked at it, before raising his eyebrow.

"French?" He asked. "Can you speak it?"

"Like a native." Ariadne told him. "Arthur's been fluent in French since he was a kid. Jacques was an old family friend, and he taught him. That's how he met Mal."

Eames turned to Arthur, curiously, who laughed, reminiscently. "She was muttering something vulgar about one of our classmates, and I laughed. She realised I could understand her, and we started talking. It used to drive Dom crazy; I used to have full conversations with her in front of him, and he didn't have a clue what we were saying."

Eames snorted with amusement. "Poor Dom Cobb." He shook his head. "You'll have to teach me a few French phrases, darling. Perhaps the more vulgar ones." He grinned.

Arthur shook his head, exasperatedly. "Who's up for food?" He asked, changing the subject. "What does everyone want?"

"Chinese?" Ariadne suggested. "I could go and pick it up, then it wouldn't take as long."

Nobody seemed to have an issue with that, so it was decided that Arthur would ring through for it, and Ariadne would pick it up. Their next decision was what movie they would watch. Nobody seemed to have any suggestions. Arthur scanned his shelf looking for inspiration, when Eames spoke up.

"How about The Matrix?"

Arthur paused. It was his favourite movie; he definitely had no issue with watching it. Yusuf and Ariadne murmured their approval of the idea, when Arthur's eyes narrowed.

"Have you seen it yet?"

Eames looked uncomfortable. "Well," he edged. "Not exactly."

Arthur threw a cushion at him. "I bought you that box set months ago." He frowned. "I can't believe you haven't seen it yet, that's practically a crime. We are so watching this now. And you will love every second." He told Eames, seriously.

The night passed quickly and amiably. The food was delicious and Eames really enjoyed the movie, to Arthur's delight. Ariadne and Yusuf left around eleven, because Ariadne had work early in the morning. They said their goodbyes to Eames, who was leaving the next day.

Eames and Arthur tidied up, sharing the dishes. Arthur washed them and Eames dried and put them away. When they were all done, Arthur looked Eames in the eye.

"Bed?"

When Eames accepted, Arthur led him to the bedroom. They fell asleep, side-by-side, so in love that they both felt like they could burst. Eames' last thought as he drifted off was that he'd never been happier. That if this was what he had to look forward to every day; he would die a happy man.

* * *

They were sitting eating breakfast when Eames' phone rang. He frowned as he recognised the number. Cobol.

"I have to take this." He told Arthur, apologetically, before disappearing into the bedroom.

"Eames speaking." He answered, curtly.

"We have a job for you." The unemotional voice on the other end of the line told him. "One of our operations was shut down last night, and we need to find out where their information came from."

Eames felt his heart sink. He hated when Cobol gave him that type of job. He had to find out who had uncovered the information and pass it back to Cobol. That person would then be killed. It was something Eames had never gotten used to.

"Right. Give me the details." He said, flatly.

"This gang was outside of our control until very recently. They ran under the code name Month. The leader was caught in the middle of a job yesterday. He was terminated this morning. His name was September."

Eames felt his heart stop. The room began to spin. No. This actually couldn't be happening.

"Okay." He forced out. "What else do you know?"

"The source came from Interpol; they must have someone working on it, possible freelance. We need you to find out who it is. The sooner, the better. September was one of our best operatives. We want this leak plugged as soon as possible. Is that clear?"

"Crystal." Eames whispered and hung up the phone.

He buried his face in his hands. This just wasn't possible. There surely had to be a mistake somewhere. Maybe it wasn't Arthur. Maybe it was just coincidence that his report had contained details on someone called September.

He left the bedroom in a daze, finding Arthur reading the book Ariadne and Yusuf had given him for his birthday. Arthur looked up, in concern.

"Everything okay?" He asked.

Eames forced himself to nod. "Hey, you know that report you did for Jacques? That kid was called September or something. Were the rest of the gang named after months too?"

Arthur laughed. "Yeah, it was pretty unoriginal. The gang itself was called Month. Each of the members took a different month as their code name. Why do you ask?"

"Curiosity." Eames shrugged, but he felt like his world was falling apart. This was the hardest decision he ever had to make. What could he do?

He stared at the television, but didn't know what he was watching. His thoughts were scrambled and he was trying to make sense of them. On one hand, he could carry out Cobol's orders, and hand Arthur over to them. Arthur would certainly be killed. On the other, he could refuse Cobol's order. He would have to run, and without Arthur. He couldn't take Arthur with him after this. Eames knew that if he ran, it would only be a matter of time before Cobol caught him. And as a traitor, it would not be a quick and painless death.

A third option made its way into Eames' head. He could give them Jacques. Jacques would never betray Arthur, and it would leave them both safe. Eames looked over at Arthur. No. That wasn't an option.

Eames cursed himself for his dilemma. He should have never replied to Arthur's e-mail in the first place. He knew the risks of having friends in his line of work, and now it had come back to bite him in the arse.

"Eames? Are you listening to me?"

The Brit broke out of his thoughts. "Sorry, what?"

Arthur's expression softened. "I asked if you wanted to get some lunch. I was thinking I could make us a sandwich."

"I'm not hungry." Eames shook his head. "You go ahead though. I'll get something later."

Arthur nodded, uncertainly. "What time is your flight?"

"Five o'clock." Eames replied woodenly.

Arthur nodded again, before disappearing into the kitchen to make himself a sandwich. Eames buried his head in his hands again and resisted the urge to pull out his hair and scream in anguish. That wouldn't help him at all.

He wondered why he was even considering this. He'd worked for Cobol for years, knowing that if it ever came to it, he would have to be willing to betray his own mother. He'd known Arthur for over a year. The choice should be easy. So why wasn't it?

"Because you love him." A voice in the back of his head told him. "Because you saw everything you could have with him and you want it all. And now you're tearing yourself apart because you dared to hope that for once this would all work out for you."

He felt tears prick his eyes and he blinked them back furiously."Arthur?" He called, standing up in a sudden movement.

Arthur stuck his head out of the kitchen.

"Arthur, I need to head out for some air, and a few cigarettes." He told him. "Don't look so worried, I've just got a bit of stress with the job, that's all."

It wasn't a lie. He just downplayed the stress.

Arthur nodded. "Want me to come with you?"

Eames shook his head. "Nah, I'll be fine. I won't be long. Maybe an hour, at the very most."

Arthur nodded, biting his lip. Eames noticed the tell-tale sign of Arthur's concern and forced a smile. He leaned over and kissed him softly, feeling sick as he did so. He shouldn't be standing here, keeping up a pretence; acting like everything was fine with the man he loved, when he could be responsible for his death in only a few short hours.

Without waiting for Arthur to protest, Eames swept out of the door. He found the nearest shop easily, and bought a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. Settling down on the wall outside, he lit up the first smoke with trembling hands. He wasn't sure how long he sat there for, just watching people go by, concerned with their own lives, never sparing a second glance for the man whose world was falling apart as he smoked his sixth cigarette in a row.

A young couple walked past him, holding hands, the woman giggling over something her lover had said and Eames watched them, insanely jealous. Why couldn't he have that? Why couldn't he have a normal life with Arthur? It was all he wanted, to be done with Cobol.

Except he knew he would never be happy. This was what he did, what he loved to do. Stealing gave him a thrill that he would be miserable without. But he wasn't sure if he would ever move on from Arthur. But even if he made the decision to disobey Cobol, he would never be able to see Arthur again, so what did it matter if he was dead or alive?

His decision made, Eames got to his feet. He crushed the half-empty pack of cigarettes in his hand, dropping them into the bin as he returned to Arthur's apartment. Arthur was standing in the doorway waiting for him.

"Where have you been? You've been nearly two hours, I was worried about you!" Arthur told him. "Your taxi will be here soon, you're going to miss your flight."

Eames ducked past him, into the house. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to worry you." He murmured, pulling Arthur to him for a kiss.

Arthur broke away immediately, wrinkling his nose. "You taste like an ashtray." He said, disgustedly.

Eames felt the corner of his mouth quirk up. "I'll brush my teeth." He promised. "But I better pack first."

"It's all taken care of." Arthur told him. "I knew you were running out of time, so I did it for you."

Eames smiled, sadly. "What would I do without you, darling?"

He disappeared into the bathroom to brush his teeth, repacking his toothbrush when he was finished. He emerged from the bathroom just as the taxi pulled up outside.

"I better go." He said softly.

Arthur accompanied him to the door. "Eames? You've been acting strange all day. Is everything okay?"

"I'm not sure." Eames told him honestly. "I'm sorry, Arthur. I promise it's nothing you've done."

"Was it something to do with the phone call?" Arthur asked, hesitantly. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to pry."

Eames nodded. The taxi beeped, drawing both of their attention. Eames swung his bag over his shoulder.

"I love you, you know." He told Arthur solemnly. "With everything that I am."

Arthur laughed, nervously. "Now you're scaring me."

"I'm sorry." Eames said again, his voice wobbling. He grabbed Arthur's collar and pulled him into a kiss, crushing their lips together. His hands moved to cup Arthur's face and he pulled away. He pressed a softer, lingering kiss to Arthur's lips, before he pulled away.

"I love you." Arthur told him.

Eames' felt his knees begin to shake. "I know. I love you too."

He turned away, walking towards the taxi, sliding his bag into the back. He paused, turning back to glance at Arthur one last time, as if committing his face to memory, before he slid into the taxi. Arthur stayed on the steps of his apartment long after the taxi had driven away, filled with dread, somehow knowing that Eames had just said goodbye.

* * *

Eames stared out of the taxi window in a daze for the whole journey. The taxi driver seemed to realise that Eames was clearly not in the mood for conversation and left him to his thoughts, only clearing his throat when they arrived at the airport. Eames paid the fare, leaving the driver a ten dollar tip.

He checked in for his flight, and walked through security, past duty free and into the departure lounge, completely unaware of his surroundings. He stared out of the window at his plane. He'd made this journey many times before now. Arthur himself had made it once.

Eames closed his eyes, trying to block out the thoughts of Arthur. They were too painful. But even behind his eyelids, all he could see was Arthur, coming undone beneath him, looking at him with such love and trust, that he clearly didn't deserve. His hands curled into fists in pain as he stared out of the window.

An announcement rang out, calling his flight. Slowly, Eames unclenched his fists, reaching for his phone. He couldn't put it off anymore. The decision was tearing him apart. He dialled the number from memory, his hand steady as he held the phone to his hear.

"Yes?"

"You've asked too much of me. I'm not doing the job." Eames spoke quietly.

The line was silent for a moment. "You realise what this means for you?"

"I'm aware." Eames said coldly. "You realise I won't make it easy for you?"

"Very well. Then I regret to inform you that your employment with us has expired, Mr Eames, and you have outlived your usefulness. I suggest you set your affairs in order."

"Fuck you." Eames whispered and ended the call. He dropped the phone on the floor, crushing it beneath his heel. Minutes later, he was boarding his flight, ready to leave Los Angeles, Arthur, Cobol… _everything_, far behind him.

* * *

**I hope you enjoyed this chapter. It broke my heart to write it; seriously, it's 7am here, I pulled an all-nighter just to ensure that I got this chapter out to you all tonight :) so please review and let me know if you liked or hated it! Much love! x**


	30. Don't Get Too Close, It's Dark Inside

**Two updates in two days! You'll start to get used to me! But really, there's the distinct possibility that I might upload the final chapter tomorrow, while inspiration is still striking me. This chapter is really really angsty, but no doubt it will all work out in the end.**

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Nine: Don't Get Too Close, It's Dark Inside**

Eames stepped off the plane in London, feeling the cold air hit him like a slap in the face. Ideally, he should never have returned to England, not now Cobol was looking for him. But he had loose ends to tie up. He needed to retrieve his fake passport, obtain as much money as he could and ensure Rob would be safe before his disappeared.

Returning to London was risky, but it was necessary. With any luck, he had enough of a head start that he would be long gone before Cobol caught up to him.

Walking through security, Eames handed over his passport. The security guard looked at it, obviously bored, and ran it through the computer. He paused.

"Can you hang on just a moment please?" He excused himself. Eames' head snapped up and he nodded once. Shit. They'd put an alert out on his passport already. He scanned the airport, looking for a means of escape. He saw several ways he could make it out without being caught, but he didn't. He'd never get anywhere near the flat before he was arrested and without his fake passport he couldn't get out of the country.

The police would catch up with him sooner or later and they would want to know why an innocent man would run. But if he didn't run he would be killed.

Eames sighed, and stayed where he was, watching expressionlessly as the security guard returned with a few others in tow.

"Sir, could I ask you to accompany us, please?" One of the guards said, politely enough.

Eames nodded. "Of course. Can I ask what this is about?" He said, as he followed the guards, noting that one of them walked a half step behind him, in case he made a run for it. Eames had no desire to run, confirming his guilt for whatever Cobol had fitted him up for.

"Perhaps we should speak in the detention room." Was his only response.

Eames sighed and followed them obediently. They held open the door and he walked in, sitting in the chair provided.

"Do you want a glass of water?" The female security guard asked him. It seemed that if he played ball, so would they.

The Brit shook his head. "No, thank you. An explanation would be great, though." He raised his eyebrow.

She shook her head. "Something flagged up on your passport; I'm afraid this is now a matter for the police and it's out of our hands."

Eames nodded, slowly. "So the police are on their way I take it?"

The woman nodded.

"I see." He leaned back in his chair. "Perhaps I will take that glass of water then. The London Metropolitan aren't exactly known for their punctuality."

He saw no point in making a scene. Eames knew exactly how this was going to go. It was a route that Cobol had undertaken more than once. He was a little disappointed. He expected to go out with a bang, for Cobol make it look like a fight had gone wrong and at least allowed him to defend himself. Instead he was to be arrested and charged, and he would be murdered in prison long before he had a chance to appear in court.

He thought Cobol might have at least offered him something unique. He'd worked for them for a long time. If he had to die, he wanted to go out in style.

Eames wondered if it was unusual that he was thinking about his impending death in such a logical, calm manner. He reflected that perhaps under ordinary circumstances, his attitude should be worrying. In actuality, he'd had a few years to come to terms with the fact that he would be lucky to reach twenty-five. He was lucky to make it this far, lucky to have found what he had with Arthur.

Arthur. Eames shook his head slightly. That was not an avenue of thought he was willing to explore. He didn't even want to think about how Arthur would handle the news of his death. The American was perceptive; he would have picked up on Eames' goodbye and realised what had happened. Eames wished he could have said something; at least explained. But he couldn't, and it was probably for the best. But he could at least give him some warning. Once he got to the police station, he would be entitled to a phone call, and he could get the ball rolling from there.

When the police came, Eames offered them the same courtesy as he had offered Heathrow security. They were just doing their job. He thanked the security guard for his glass of water, and willingly accompanied the police to the car. His efforts paid off, as he was allowed to walk of his own free will, flanked by the police officer, but without handcuffs.

At the station, he was duly searched, and handed his belongings over to the police custody officer. He had nothing in his bag he was worried about; just his clothes and travel documents, his wallet and his front door key. He signed for them, and was immediately shown to the interview room. Eames settled down in the seat, preparing for a long wait. The police technique was usually to make their suspect sweat a little, have time to get nervous. It wouldn't work on him.

He was surprised, therefore, when the door opened not two minutes later, and two men entered the room.

"So, your name is…"

"Eames." He interrupted quickly. The detective looked up in surprised. "I'm sorry, I just have a deep loathing for my Christian name. Even my mother calls me Eames."

The detective relaxed and smiled, realising Eames wasn't going to give him any trouble. The other officer grunted and sat down.

"I'm Detective Sergeant Tadashi." He nodded once. "Mr Eames, do you know why you're here?"

Eames shook his head. "Not fully." He admitted truthfully. "The officers who escorted me here mentioned something about grand larceny, although I'm not entirely sure what I'm meant to have stolen. I've been in Los Angeles for the last few days."

"And before that?" Tadashi asked, leaning forward.

Eames shook his head. "I intend to co-operate fully, let me make that clear right now. But I believe I'm entitled to one phone call and legal aid?"

"If you're innocent, Mr Eames, why do you need legal aid?" Tadashi raised an eyebrow.

Eames smiled slightly. "Merely a precaution. I don't actually know the number of my solicitor, but my flatmate will be able to find it. Is it possible I can call him? He'll be able to contact my solicitor, and contact my friend in Los Angeles, who was expecting me to let him know when I landed."

"Of course." Tadashi acknowledged. "Your rights dictate you are allowed one phone call and legal aid. If you will follow me, I'll take you to a phone."

Eames gestured for him to lead the way. Tadashi took him in a small office, which contained a desk phone. He dialled the number, conscious of the detective watching his every move. The phone rang, and he willed Rob to be home?

"Hello?"

"Rob?" Eames sighed with relief. "I need a favour."

Rob sounded surprised. "Of course. What do you need? Are you still in LA?"

Eames laughed. "Not exactly. I'm back in London, I've been arrested. I need you to contact my solicitor, the number should be on the fridge. Call him and tell him I'm in Heathrow Police Station, on Bath Road, will you? And that he needs to be here as soon as possible."

"I'll call him now." Rob promised, his tone filled with concern. "Do you need me to come down with anything?"

"No." Eames refused. "I'm good for now, just call my solicitor."

Rob paused for a moment. "And Arthur?"

"Arthur?" Eames closed his eyes, his chest filled with pain. "Tell him I landed safely and I'll call him when I can. And Rob? Tell him I love him."

"You're not coming home, are you?" Rob asked quietly.

Eames smiled sadly. "Probably not. Just… look after the flat for me, yeah?"

Tadashi tapped his watch. Eames nodded. "Listen, Rob I have to go."

"No." Rob interrupted. "You are _not_ going to make me keep this from Arthur. He deserves better than that. I'm calling him."

"No!" Eames refused sharply. "Trust me when I say it's better for him if he doesn't come. He needs to stay in Los Angeles. Call him if you must, but _keep him there_." At Tadashi's gesture, Eames sighed. "Look, I have to go. Call my solicitor. He'll know what to do."

He hung up the phone.

Tadashi looked awkward. "I assume you won't speak until your solicitor gets here?"

Eames sighed, realising what was coming. "No. Take me to the holding cell then."

"You seem very well versed in your rights, Mr Eames?" Tadashi asked curiously. "But you've never been in trouble with the police before."

Eames laughed. "You're fishing, Detective Tadashi. There's no story there I'm afraid. One of my A Levels was in Law, that's all."

He walked into the holding cell and for what felt like the millionth time that day, took the designated seat.

"I'll be back as soon as your solicitor arrives." Tadashi promised, shutting the door, leaving Eames alone with his thoughts.

* * *

Arthur awoke early the next morning, around seven o'clock, to his phone buzzing. He glanced over to check the display, to find a number he didn't recognise. Spotting the UK area code, he picked it up immediately, assuming it was Eames.

"Hello?"

"Arthur? It's Rob. Robert Fischer."

Arthur sat bolt upright, suddenly wide awake and filled with dread. "What's happened? Where's Eames?"

"He was arrested as soon as he landed. He's at the police station now."

Arthur hopped out of bed, sliding into the first pair of jeans he laid his hands on, the phone pressed between his ear and his shoulder.

"I'll catch the first flight over." He promised.

Rob chuckled. "Eames told me to tell you that it's not a good idea. That I needed to do everything I could to keep you in Los Angeles. He didn't give me a chance to tell him that it was like trapping a hurricane with a butterfly net. We both know you won't listen. But I do need to warn you, Arthur. Eames doesn't think he'll come out of this alive."

Deep down, Arthur knew this; he'd known since Eames had looked at him like they would never see each other again, but it didn't make it any easier to hear. He turned on the speakerphone and sank onto his bed.

"What happened?" He asked, but he didn't expect an answer. Rob surely couldn't know any more than he did.

"The gang you shut down worked for Cobol. They wanted Eames to deliver to person responsible, and he refused."

Arthur felt his blood run cold. This was his fault? If he hadn't taken that assignment, this wouldn't have happened – Eames would still be working for Cobol, he wouldn't be at risk of being killed. The horror turned to anger as he realised Eames would never have told him. He would have died without ever telling Arthur about the sacrifice he was making. The thought made Arthur want to cry and smash something.

"How do you know this?" He asked, quietly.

Rob sighed. "Eames gave me a number to call. He said it was his solicitor, but I assume that was because someone was listening. It was an automated message; he must have set it up at some point before he left Los Angeles. It detailed everything I needed to do, things I needed to get rid of. He begged me to keep you in LA; Cobol are watching me, if you arrive after he's been arrested, they'll know. The message told me everything that happened, and gave me a number for you to dial, with a message that you need to hear, but you can only listen to it once."

Arthur closed his eyes. "The fucking _bastard_." He cursed, feeling tears prick his eyes. "The selfish fucking _bastard_. He better not die before I get there, because I'm going to kill him myself. He _promised _me that we were in this together."

"You are." Rob told him. "You would do exactly the same thing in his position, don't deny it. He's left information for me to tell you everything. If he considered you his inferior, rather than his equal, he would do this without telling you everything. He's just told you everything at a point where it's too late to stop him."

Arthur sobbed. "He looked me in the eye and told me he loved me, and then he left, knowing he was going to his death. And how he expects me to stay here and do nothing?" He paused, wiping his eyes. Rob didn't reply.

Arthur stood up, swiftly. "Text me the number. I'll be on the next flight out, I'll call you back with the details. Meet me at Heathrow airport."

Rob paused. "They're watching me, Arthur. If I meet you, Cobol will find you. Eames asked me to keep you there, and I'm already going against his wishes by letting you come. As long as I keep away from you, you'll be safe." He paused. "Arthur, you're not thinking of doing anything stupid, are you?"

"Of course not." Arthur snapped, as he threw a handful of t-shirts into his bag. "Listen, I know how to get around Cobol. Leave that to me. I've got to go; I need to ring a taxi."

The flight was one of the longest of Arthur's life. Eleven hours wasn't exactly a sneeze to start with, but it felt like days before the plane touched down in Heathrow. Arthur, master of hiding his emotions, kept a straight face all through security, only relaxing when he emerged from Arrivals, spotting Fischer immediately in the crowd.

"Rob!" He waved excitedly, running towards him, before the other man had time to react. He needed Rob to play along; any slip in the charade could be fatal. He flung his arms around Robert's neck, pulling him in for a crushing hug.

"Play along." He breathed into Rob's ear, before he pulled back and shyly pressing his lips to Rob's. Rob tensed for a moment, but relaxed into the kiss, wrapping his arms around Arthur. Thankfully, neither of them made a move to deepen the kiss; it felt like the ultimate betrayal. Even amidst all the heartbreak and worry, Arthur could appreciate the irony. He was cheating on his boyfriend by kissing Robert Fischer, the same man Nash had cheated on Arthur with.

Although there were pretty distinctive differences. Nash had fucked Fischer, for reasons that Arthur still didn't know. Arthur was only kissing Fischer out of necessity. It was to save his life.

He withdrew from the kiss, brushing Rob's cheek with his hand, tenderly, pretending that it was Eames.

"It's great to see you." He said softly. "It's been so long."

Rob nodded, smiling. "I know." He took Arthur's hand in his, and Arthur couldn't help but compare Rob's soft, slender hands to Eames' large rough hands. It just felt wrong.

"So, what did you have planned for us today?" Arthur asked, cheerfully. He kept his face fixed firmly ahead, but his eyes were already cataloguing the airport. He spotted their tail instantly, a man leaning against the far wall, reading a newspaper, but he hadn't turned the page since Arthur arrived.

Rob cottoned on quickly. "Well, I thought we could just have a night in and catch up, but I have a few things I need to do. My flatmate, Eames, you remember Eames, right? Well, he was arrested yesterday, on a flight back from Los Angeles."

"He was in LA?" Arthur frowned. "He should have stopped by, it would have been nice to have some company. Things have been quiet since I graduated. So what did he do that was worth getting arrested for?"

Rob shrugged. "Not a clue. Nobody will tell me anything. He can't take my calls, and the police won't disclose anything to me. But he was kept in a holding cell last night, so he'll want a change of clothes. I've got them here, I just need to stop by the station and drop them off, and then I'm all yours."

Arthur smiled. "Good. I look forward to it. You think they'll let you see him?"

"Probably not." Rob shrugged. "But it means we have the flat all to ourselves." He grinned. "Come on, let's go."

Arthur grinned in return, the gesture coming easy to him. It sounded so much like something Eames would say, that it gave him hope.

* * *

Eames had indeed been kept in a holding cell overnight. Since the number he'd given Rob was not, in fact, the number of his solicitor, no-one arrived to represent him. Since he still refused to be interviewed without his personal solicitor, Tadashi had been forced to keep him overnight.

Eames didn't care. He was comforted by the knowledge that Arthur was safe, and one night in a cramped and uncomfortable room was nothing. The twenty-four hours the police could hold him was nearly up, so they would either have to charge him, or release him. He was betting that they charged him. Cobol would ensure they had enough evidence to do so.

So it came as a huge surprise to him when he was released, with the charges dropped. He politely asked the desk sergeant if he could call his flatmate to come and pick him up, and reached for the phone.

"Hello? Rob? It's me. I've been released. They dropped the charges. Can you come and get me?"

Rob sighed with relief. "I'm not too far away. I'll be there in five minutes."

Eames was waiting outside when the silver car pulled up next to him. He opened the back door, and slid his belongings in, before he realised that there was another person in the car. His eyes widened when he realised who it was.

"_Arthur_?"

"Eames." Arthur said coldly. "Get the fuck in the car."

Eames did as he was told. He wasn't sure exactly what had happened, why he'd been released, why he was even still breathing. He hadn't accounted for this. But he knew that Arthur would be furious for what he'd done.

"Why were you released?" Arthur asked, but he didn't turn around to look at Eames.

The Brit shook his head. "I have no idea. I thought maybe it was something to do with you. You're telling me you had nothing to do with this?"

"Nothing at all." Arthur sighed. "I only landed an hour ago. I was planning on digging up and destroying their evidence as soon as we got to the flat, but you were released before I could."

"Would you mind taking a quick look on your phone?" Eames asked, softly. "Call me paranoid, but something smells off about this."

Arthur hummed his agreement, and began typing quickly. A few moments later, his fingers stilled and he let out an audible gasp. He passed his phone back to Eames quickly, who almost dropped it in shock, unable to believe what he was reading. It was a national newspaper, but the headline was something unbelievable.

_POLICE BUST CRIMINAL RING COBOL ENGINEERING._

"What the _fuck_? How the fuck they bust Cobol?" Eames gasped.

Arthur shook his head, dazed. "I don't know."

Eames quickly scanned the article, reading that thanks to anonymous tip, Interpol had busted fourteen different warehouses, discovering billions of dollars' worth of art, as well as the name of every operative – but somehow they had missed Eames.

"An anonymous Interpol tip." Eames repeated, flatly. "Arthur, what have you _done_?"

Arthur frowned. "Nothing, I just told you… oh my God!"

He snatched his phone from Eames' grip, dialling Jacques' personal number quickly. The call connected instantly.

"You're welcome." Jacques' throaty accent chuckled down the phone. Arthur clicked the phone on loudspeaker.

"You did this? How?" Arthur choked.

Jacques sighed, patiently. "_Mon ami_, you let slip the name Cobol to me months ago. I have had all of this information prepared just in case something like this happened. Now, tell me, did they drop the charges?"

"Yes." Eames spoke up from the back of the car. "They did. Thank you, Jacques."

"Ahh, Mr Eames. A pleasure to finally speak to you." Jacques replied, wryly. "I hope you are not too put out by your recent unemployment."

Eames chuckled. "Not at all. I'm sure I'll find a job elsewhere."

Jacques murmured his agreement. "I have no doubt. Perhaps next time you will choose your employers a little more wisely? It would not do for Arthur to be mixed up in something like this."

Before Eames could reply, Arthur had snatched up the phone, holding it to his hear, so Eames could no longer hear what was being said.

"Less of that." He snapped. "I can make my own decisions. What? No, of course not. Obviously. Right. Okay, I'll call you tomorrow." His tone softened. "Thank you Jacques. I owe you."

He ended the call.

"So what are you going to do now, Eames?" Rob asked, curiously. "You could do anything you wanted, now you're not tied to Cobol."

Eames stared at him, solemnly. "Probably exactly the same, only maybe I'll work freelance. I'm good at what I do, Rob, and working for Cobol was a concession I made to do the job I love. As far as I'm concerned, my profession is the same, I'm just self-employed."

Arthur met his gaze in the rear-view mirror, just as Fischer pulled up outside the flat. He turned to Arthur and Eames.

"I'm going out, and I'll be gone the rest of the day. You two scream at each other; do whatever it is you need to do, but make sure you're sorted by the time I get back, or so help me, I will bang your heads together. And then when I do get back, you can explain to me exactly what the fuck just happened, and how Eames is still breathing. So get the fuck out of the car and try not to disturb the neighbours."

They got out instantly, watching as Rob drove away. Eames turned to Arthur, who shook his head.

"Inside." He ordered.

Eames unlocked the flat and they walked inside. He dropped his bag and turned back to Arthur. It had to be that he wasn't expecting it, because he was taken completely off guard when Arthur drew his fist back and punched Eames squarely in the face, hard enough that Eames saw stars.

He staggered back, completely thrown. "The fuck?" He gasped, rubbing his cheek.

"You _ever_ try anything like that again and I'll break your fucking nose." Arthur roared at him, his eyes glazed with anger. "You _promised_ me, Eames. You promised that we were in this together, and as soon as things get difficult you run away and make the decision without me."

"It wasn't like that, Arthur, I swear to you." Eames told him. "Just hear me out, and if you don't like what you hear, you can walk away from this and I wouldn't blame you."

"Too fucking right you wouldn't blame me; it would be entirely your fault." Arthur snapped. "This had better be the best fucking explanation of your life, Eames, or so help me we are _through_."

Eames flinched. He couldn't help it; it wasn't what he expected. He knew Arthur would be pissed at him, but he hadn't actually expected to live long enough to see it. He half-wished that Cobol had succeeded in killing him; he wasn't sure he would be able to fix this, and he would rather die than hurt Arthur. Unfortunately, it seemed as though that was exactly what he'd done.

"Through?" He repeated, his voice laced with pain.

Arthur glared at him. "I am your _boyfriend_, not your fucking _pet_!" He yelled. "Decisions like this are supposed to be things we make together, not something you make behind my back!"

"I wasn't sure that I would make the right decision if I told you the truth." Eames admitted. "Arthur, when I'm with you, I want to be a good person. I want to be the person you deserve. But I'm not. Cobol wanted you. They wanted me to hand them the person who shut down September's operations. And I considered it."

Arthur froze and looked at him in shock. "What?"

Eames shrugged, miserably, tears in his eyes. "I never claimed to be a good person. I try to be, but I don't always succeed. When I was in your apartment, I considered every angle. I considered selling you out, in order to keep my job. I considered handing them Jacques, your _friend_, in order to keep us both safe. I was sitting in your apartment, considering handing you over to people I knew would kill you. What kind of person does that make me?"

He let the tears fall, and sank down onto the stairs. "So I went out. To smoke, to think where I wouldn't be influenced by an apartment that was just full of you, your smell...And I knew that I couldn't let you pay for my mistake. I should never have dragged you into my world, Arthur. People like me don't have friends for a reason. I couldn't let them hurt Jacques, because it would hurt you, and I couldn't let them hurt you. I didn't see a fourth option, Arthur. So I let them have me instead."

He wiped his eyes, sniffling. "I couldn't tell you. What was I meant to say. 'Oh yeah, I'm sorry, Arthur, one of us has to die. We need to decide which one of us that is?' It was my mistake to fix."

"We could have left. Just ran, like we planned to if things fucked up anyway."

Eames shook his head, running his hands through his hair, shakily. "No. The idea of handing myself over was to keep you safe, not allow you to get killed anyway when they found us. I'm sorry, Arthur. I never meant to bring any of this down on you. I love you, I know you probably don't believe me. But I do, I love you like I've never loved anyone else. I had no choice."

"I believe you love me." Arthur told him, quietly, feeling tears well up in his eyes. "I'll never doubt that. I just don't think you know what it means to love someone. To trust them so completely that you tell them anything and everything, because that's the sort of relationship you have. You say one thing, but your actions say another. I told you once, Eames, that you trusted me with your life, but not your heart. All this has done is made me realise that I never really had either."

Eames looked up, his eyes pleading. "Don't leave me, Arthur. You're the only thing that matters to me now. I love you."

Arthur shook his head, tears falling, silently. "I just need some space to think. I'll be back in an hour, I promise."

He turned around and walked out of the front door, closing it behind him. As he walked away from Eames' flat, his hand automatically reached for his phone. He wanted to call anyone, everyone. Ariadne, Jacques, Yusuf… even Dom. But he didn't. For once, Arthur was sick of being in everyone's shadow. It was time he grew up, learned to stand up for himself. He needed to make his own decision.

His phone clutched in his hand, as Arthur rounded the corner, Arthur noticed the note saved on his desktop. His eyes widened as he realised this was the voicemail that Eames had left for him in the event of his death. The words that Eames wanted to be the last thing Arthur heard from him.

Arthur dialled the number he could barely see through his tears, his hands shaking, before pressing the phone to his ear.

"Hello, Arthur. I know you're probably so angry with me right now, and I want you to know that I would be too. I promised that we would make these decisions together, but this was a decision I needed to make alone. With you around, I didn't have a clear head. It was selfish, but I promise I did this thinking of you. I don't think you realise just how much you did for me. I hated myself; I hated what I saw when I looked in the mirror, but you taught me to look harder, and trust me when I say that if I'm dead, I died knowing that there was more to me than I thought, that there were parts of me I could be proud of.

"If I haven't died, and I'm just on the run, and I've left you behind, trust me when I say that I will never stop thinking of you, and that it was impossible for you to come with me. I was uncertain about the idea of you coming with me on jobs to start with, but when we compromised, I began to realise that this wasn't a bad thing. That you by my side, doing the job I love, would be the best thing that could have ever happened to me.

"I told you that my dad was a thief. He was, and he was arrested when I was twelve. I didn't actually find out he was in prison until I was eighteen. My mum kept it from me for six years, until I was recruited by Cobol. When I told her what I did, she told me I was just like him. It tore me apart, and I vowed not to be like him. He stole from people who had so little, and couldn't afford to lose what they did have. I never did that. But I was raised to believe that you need to protect the people you love from the truth.

"In retrospect, I've realised that's not what you need to do. Protecting you has never turned out well for me. I've made my mistakes with you, darling, but I'm not about to make another one. I know now that you don't need me to protect you, you need me to treat you as an equal. I finally understand that now. So I'm giving you a choice. This isn't what I want for you, but it's not my decision to make. At the end of this message, I'll leave you a contact number for Cobol, so get a pen ready. I'm not sure if your desire to work for them came from wanting to work with me, or your enjoyment of the job itself. I hope with all my heart that you never choose to work for them, Arthur, but I understand entirely that the choice is entirely yours.

I love you, Arthur. I hope you never doubted that for a second."

There was a pause, before Eames read out a string of numbers. Arthur let his hand drop from his ear, not realising he was sprinting back towards the flat until he burst through the door.

Eames was exactly where Arthur had left him, his eyes red-rimmed from crying. He jumped up as Arthur burst in, but relaxed as the American flung himself into his arms.

"I love you, Arthur." Eames promised him, his voice hoarse.

Arthur just clung to him, weeping. "I know; I understand now. I love you, Eames."

They sat on the stairs of Eames' flat, clinging to each other, silently. They'd had a close call, but neither of them ever wanted to be without the other. They were better off together; that much was clear. Arthur made Eames a better person, and Eames was good for Arthur, he made the American stronger. As far as they were both concerned, not being together wasn't an option.

Eventually, Eames spoke up. "Where does this leave us? Darling, I thought that my job meant more to me, but I understand now that it doesn't. You do. We need to decide our future, together."

Arthur smiled at him, the expression full of joy and promise, even though his eyes were still red from the earlier tears.

"Nothing has changed, Eames." He smiled. "You still want to do what you're good at, and I still want to come with you. The only difference is now we have two homes to choose from at the end of it all. After each job, we can go to your flat, or my apartment. You can see your family and friends, I can see mine. And we'll have each other. What else needs to be said?"

He pulled Eames in for a kiss, and Eames returned the gesture, pouring all of his love and emotion into the kiss. He knew now that no matter what life threw at them, they were going to be alright. That if there was one constant he could rely on, it was that Arthur would always be by his side.

* * *

**One more chapter left, and then we're done! Please review!**


	31. A Life That's Always Been A Dream

**Final chapter! Wow, this has been a long ride, longer than I thought it would take initially. I almost gave up on La Vie a few times, but I'm glad I persevered, because I'm pretty happy with how it turned out. I hope you enjoy the end!**

* * *

**Chapter Thirty: A Life That's Always Been A Dream**

Arthur and Eames packed up the remainder of Eames' belongings. They weren't leaving permanently; but Jacques had lined up a few jobs for them, and they were heading to Paris, via Los Angeles.

It had been over a week since Cobol had gone under and Eames and Arthur had spent each day discussing the plans for their future, eventually organising their plans. Eames still wanted to use his skills as a thief. Arthur's only stipulation was that he could still contact his family and friends. His friends had been amazed to find that Arthur had skipped out on them without so much as a goodbye. Until Arthur had explained that Eames had been in danger, Ariadne had been livid. Once she understood, she'd calmed down a little.

Arthur hadn't actually dared tell her about his plans to leave with Eames. He suspected she would react badly, and if he'd told her right then, the fireworks would have been extreme to say the least. They had a lot of details to finalise before they left, and Arthur was keeping their plans to himself until the last possible minute. He had more pressing things on his mind, like terminating the lease on his apartment, as Eames bought it instead.

He'd unofficially handed his own flat over to Robert, who had been furious.

"This doesn't mean that you get to just disappear under a rock." He snapped. "We've been friends for a few years now, Eames, and I like to think that counts for something. You better visit, and keep in touch."

Arthur watched, grinning, as Rob pulled Eames into what had to be the most awkward hug ever. They weren't the sort of friends who showed affection, and both pulled back quickly, clearing their throat. Arthur turned away, stifling his grin so Eames and Rob wouldn't see it.

"I'll be back sooner or later. Don't touch my bedroom or change the locks." Eames told him, firmly. "Or Arthur and I will have the _loudest_ sex when we get back. The flat is yours now, but I'd still like somewhere to sleep when we stop by."

Arthur couldn't repress the butterflies he felt when Eames implied that they would be returning here together. It was everything he'd wanted since the thief had turned his life upside down, and it was what he'd been heading towards even before that. Jacques and the computer hacking had set him on the road for a career in illegality before Arthur had even met Eames.

While he would never admit it to Eames, Arthur knew that if something that happened to him, he would have called the number Eames left him, and agreed to work for Cobol. He might have discovered the thrill of robbing a museum with Eames, but Arthur knew from that first time, when he helped Eames steal a vase from a museum in North Korea, that there was nothing else he wanted to do. That nothing else would ever give him the satisfaction he received from that one job.

Jolting out of his thoughts, Arthur smiled at Rob. From meeting Eames, he'd gained more than he ever expected. For one thing, it had given him a chance to sort things out with Robert Fischer, and they'd struck up a friendship that neither of them had expected. Rob was incredibly witty and clever, and his personality complimented Arthur's well. Arthur genuinely liked him; which was why he'd taken the steps he had.

"Have you heard of Proclus Global?" He asked Rob, who nodded immediately.

"Yeah, who hasn't? They were the biggest threat to my fath…Fischer Morrow's future. For a while, Proclus were the only thing stopping Fischer Morrow becoming a superpower; they'd own the monopoly on most of the world's energy. But then someone took over Proclus and suddenly everyone preferred to deal with them than Fischer Morrow." He frowned. "Why do you ask?"

Arthur smiled as Eames also looked at him curiously. This was something he'd been working on himself. "Did you know the owner of Proclus Global is one Professor H Saito?"

Eames' jaw dropped, and even Rob looked surprised; he hadn't been in Saito's Sociology class, but the professor was infamous on campus.

"I e-mailed him a few days ago, and he was very interested to hear that the estranged son of Maurice Fischer was currently seeking employment. He had a word with his chief engineer, a Mr Kaneda, who offered you a job on the spot." Arthur handed Rob a scrap of paper. Fischer took it, dazed. "He asked that you give him a call, whether you're interested in a job or not. He mentioned they were looking for someone to take over the running of their London headquarters." Arthur shrugged.

Rob just stared at him, speechless. "Everything you've done for me since we met, regardless of our history… and everything you've done for Eames… it seemed the least I could do." Arthur told him. "You're not obligated either way. I just thought I'd give you the option."

Eames zipped up his bag. "I'm all packed, darling. Come on, let's get a cup of tea before we have to leave for our flight."

He steered Arthur out of the room, realising Rob was completely overwhelmed and would need a few minutes to compose himself.

"That was really kind of you." He murmured, when they entered the kitchen.

Arthur shrugged. "Like I said, it seemed the least I could do. Rob's been a good friend to both of us. He doesn't deserve to be punished just because Maurice Fischer is a homophobic bigot. I saw his test scores. Rob's a fucking genius in the making. He deserves a good job."

Rob entered the kitchen a few moments later, and Eames gestured to the cup of tea that was waiting on the table for him. Fischer accepted it, gratefully. They sat around, talking, until the taxi arrived. Arthur carried his bag to the car as Eames shook hands with Rob.

"We'll be a few months at most. And you have us on Skype." He told his now ex-flatmate. "Feel free to e-mail at any point."

Rob snorted. "E-mail. Sure. How are you ever meant to get anything said by e-mail?"

Arthur laughed, from the taxi. "We managed." He reminded Rob, shooting an adoring look at Eames as he walked back over. "I'll text you when we land in LA. Since _someone_ smashed their phone; a phone that was a gift, I might add." He added, pointedly.

"It was entirely necessary, darling." Eames reminded him, grabbing his own bag to drop in the back of the taxi.

Arthur turned to Rob and offered him a genuine smile. "Like he said, we'll be back in a few months. You won't even know we were gone." He offered Rob his hand, but Rob refused it, in order to pull Arthur into a crushing hug.

"I can never thank you enough, Arthur." Rob murmured. "I'll call Mr Kaneda tonight."

Arthur smiled, and returned the hug easily. "You deserve a future, regardless of what your father thinks."

He pulled away and Rob offered him a grin. "Take care of yourself, Arthur. And make sure Eames doesn't get you both killed."

"Hey!" Eames yelped. "I resent that entirely."

"Resent it all you like, doesn't mean it's not true." Rob shot back. "Take care of yourself, Eames."

He watched as they both climbed into the taxi, and Arthur waved as they pulled away.

"I think I'm going to miss him." Eames admitted. "He's been my flatmate for the best part of two years."

Arthur nodded, distantly. Eames narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "That hug seemed to come quite naturally." He said, pointedly. "Almost like you'd done it before."

Arthur forced himself not to grin. "Maybe we have." He said airily, ignoring Eames as the Brit spluttered in shock.

* * *

The flight to LA was over quicker than they expected; Arthur was dreading the conversation with his friends, not to mention his parents. He should have mentioned his plans to them before now. Arthur had been thinking over his plans to leave with Eames for months; he'd had plenty of opportunities to mention his possible future to his friends, and now it was actually happening. He was leaving LA tomorrow and he'd told his family and friends _nothing_. He wasn't sure any of them would be inclined to be understanding.

When they left the airport, their first port of call was Arthur's parents. They were just about to leave for their business trip, but Arthur had called and given them enough notice that they were able to delay their trip for another day. They hired a car, since his parents lived just outside of Los Angeles and it was a long bus ride to contend with, particularly after such a long flight.

The ride was tense, and Eames did his best to comfort Arthur, but there was nothing he could say to make this any easier. Eames didn't know how Arthur's parents would react; it was as simple as that. He couldn't reassure his boyfriend that they would be fine with him leaving, because he didn't know if they would.

Eames pulled up smoothly outside a bright, clean-looking house, which presumably belonged to Mr and Mrs Levine. Eames noted with interest that this would have been where Arthur grew up; this is where he would have spent his childhood. He examined the beautiful exterior of the family's home. It seemed a little impersonal, but maybe that was to do with Arthur's parents travelling a lot.

He hung back as Arthur knocked on the door. Eames felt a little awkward to begin with, intruding on Arthur's goodbyes. He wasn't as subtle as he'd thought, because Arthur turned around and tugged on his sleeve until Eames joined him.

"I can't do this without you." Arthur murmured.

The door opened and Mrs Levine immediately enveloped her son in a warm hug. "Arthur! It's so lovely to see you. And you brought Eames!" She pulled Eames into a hug of his own.

Taken completely by surprise, Eames could only stand there as Arthur's mother hugged him, his mouth open and his eyes wide. Arthur bit his lip to conceal his laughter, smoothing out his expression when his mother turned around.

"Come in! Arthur, your father is just in his study. Do you want to get him while Eames helps me with the tea?"

Arthur nodded and disappeared into the house. Mrs Levine walked through to the kitchen, gesturing for Eames to follow her, which he did, awkwardly, glancing around as he did so. There were old pictures of Arthur dotted around, from baby pictures to a graduation photograph from a few months before. Eames stopped dead, realising that of the many pictures taken that day, Arthur's parents had chosen to display the photo that Arthur had tugged Eames into. He picked up the photo frame, a lump in his throat.

"Arthur looked happiest in that one." Mrs Levine told him, seriously. "There was something missing in him, since Nash. Since he met you, he's been more himself again. You're good for my son, Eames. I might not see him often, but that I do know."

"I love him." Eames said softly.

"Then I trust you'll look after him?" She smiled.

Eames smiled back. "As much as he needs it, but Arthur knows how to take care of himself."

Mrs Levine nodded; her smile widening. Here was someone who understood her son very well. "So why the sudden visit? Arthur said it was urgent." She handed Eames a cup of tea. "Do I hear wedding bells?"

Eames inhaled his tea, choking. He lowered the cup, gulping deep breaths of air. "No." He rasped. "I mean, that's not to say we won't ever … but that's not why we came." He finished lamely.

Arthur mother raised her eyebrow. "You've thought about it." It wasn't a question.

"Quite a lot actually." Eames admitted. "But it's something I think Arthur and I need to discuss in the future, when we're both ready for that step."

Mrs Levine nodded. "Take a seat, Eames. I'll go and see what's keeping Arthur and my husband."

Eames did so, thoughts of marriage buzzing around in his head. It wasn't a lie, it was something he'd thought about more than once. Marriage was a big step, and even though they'd been in love for a long time, they hadn't actually been together all that long. Their relationship had overcome a lot of difficulties to get to this stage, so Eames reasoned that, if he and Arthur were to ever get hitched, it would be when their relationship was more stable. And preferably at a point where they'd even discussed such a possibility. He had no idea how Arthur felt about it.

He pushed those thoughts to one side as Arthur entered the room, along with both parents. He sat next to Eames, immediately seeking his hand under the table. Eames could tell Arthur was nervous, even though he was keeping a calm exterior.

"Nice to see you again, Eames." Mr Levine nodded, shaking Eames' free hand before he and his wife settled down at the opposite end of the table.

"So what's this about, Arthur?" His father asked, gruffly. "You asked us to delay our trip to Beijing so you and Eames could come here today, and I know you wouldn't ask if it wasn't important. Are you in some kind of trouble?"

"Nothing like that." Arthur assured him. "It's just … I've been offered a job, and if I take it… I leave tomorrow."

"Leave? Where to?" Mrs Levine asked, frowning. "What kind of job?"

Arthur faltered, and Eames squeezed his hand under the table, reassuringly.

Arthur licked his lips. "It's working for Jacques. Eames and I are flying to Paris tomorrow if I take the job, and then travelling around from there."

Mr Levine's brow furrowed and his eyes flickered to Eames. The Brit knew immediately what was running through his mind and spoke up quickly.

"I've already accepted the same job, but you need to know the decision is entirely Arthur's. If he doesn't take it, as far as I'm concerned, nothing will change. I'll still visit him as much as I can, and he can visit me whenever he likes. He's not obligated to accept this in any way."

Mrs Levine nodded, slowly. "But what would you actually be doing? What's the job?"

Arthur hesitated. He didn't like lying and tried to actively avoid it wherever possible. Eames disliked it, but was happy to lie when necessary. However, he saw a way they could get around this by telling half-truths.

"We can't actually say." Eames confessed. "It's for your own safety as well as ours. But if it helps, Jacques works with Interpol."

It wasn't a lie; it was just neglecting to inform Arthur's parents that Jacques worked for Interpol on a freelance basis, while juggling his career in criminality. By omitting the necessary details, Eames had made it seem like he and Arthur would be operating within the law, for a family friend that Mr and Mrs Levine clearly trusted and respected.

Arthur smiled at him gratefully as his parents eventually nodded their acceptance of Eames' words.

"I see." Mr Levine said slowly. "Well, I mean… I can't say I like it, because I don't know what you're doing. But I trust you, son. You've always known your own mind and if is this is what you want, then I'm fine with it. And Eames will see you right."

Mrs Levine nodded and patted Arthur on the shoulder, clumsily. Arthur, feeling tears sting his eyes with happiness and relief, excused himself. Eames went after him, only pausing to explain to Arthur's parents that their son had just been worried about their acceptance of his plans. He bid them farewell, and promised once more that he'd look after Arthur.

Arthur was waiting patiently by the car, and Eames threw him the keys. Arthur glanced down in surprise.

"You can drive back." Eames told him. "I abhor driving on the right side of the road. I'm amazed we got here in once piece."

Arthur just laughed and slid into the car, putting the key in the engine. He could drive; he just rarely ever did; usually only driving when appointed the designated driver the few times Ari and Dom had gone to parties and had been too pissed to drive home.

He took the scenic route out of his neighbourhood, pointing out different parts of his life growing up. He drove past his high school, Dom's house, Ariadne's home, the park he used to hang out in. The tree that he'd had his first kiss under… it was all fascinating to Eames, these little snippets of Arthur's life. He loved it. It was like, no matter what he found out about Arthur, he always wanted to know more. Eames felt like he would never tire of getting to know Arthur, even if they lived to be a hundred years old.

The journey back was light and happy; most of the weight had been taken off Arthur's shoulders with his parent's acceptance. Eames couldn't help but worry. Arthur had always been independent; his parents had never really had to worry about him. Arthur's friends, however, had seen him day after day, watched him struggle with the consequences of Nash's adultery, and what's more, they would know the truth. They would know that Arthur wasn't leaving to work for Interpol and everything, blame, guilt, hurt, would fall to Eames.

He would be the one that would have to pick up the pieces, if Ariadne was unable to accept Arthur's decision. It would be Eames that Arthur would cry to, and that shouldn't be the case. It should be that Arthur had to choose between his friends and his lover and the job he wanted to do. Eames knew if things went badly, the friends he'd managed to make in Los Angeles would turn on him. Unused to friends, Eames was surprised to find this saddened him somewhat. He'd gotten used to the idea that he had more friends than Yusuf. He liked Ariadne.

Arthur made to indicate the turn to his apartment and Eames stopped him. "Head straight to Yusuf's." He told Arthur.

The American frowned. "I thought we could drop our bags off first?"

"Might as well just leave them in the boot and get this out of the way, hmm?" He suggested, airily. When Arthur didn't look convinced, Eames sighed. "Just trust me on this, darling."

Arthur nodded, resigned and drove straight on. Eames was glad that Arthur had listened to him without demanding an explanation. His reasoning was perhaps not one that his boyfriend needed to hear: if things didn't turn out the way they wanted, Arthur would most likely want to leave for Paris straight away. It would make things easier if they didn't have to stop for bags.

He pulled in to Yusuf's street and parked outside their apartment. Eames fired off a quick text to let Yusuf know they were outside, and by the time they had locked the car, Ariadne was waiting for them at the door.

"Arthur! Eames!" She grinned, waving them in. "How are things? Back in one piece then." She added, dryly.

Eames chuckled. "Did you think otherwise? Where's Yusuf? Hiding in his lab, I bet."

"Not exactly." Ariadne laughed. "Come through to the living room and see for yourself."

Arthur walked through and stopped dead in the doorway. Eames crashed into the back of him, unprepared for Arthur's sudden halt and peeked over Arthur's shoulder to see what had caused the shock.

"Mal. Dom." Arthur murmured.

Eames stepped back instantly. He had nothing against Dom; they'd cleared the air, but he didn't want his presence to be an issue for Mal. Inwardly, he cursed. This was destined to go a lot worse than they'd thought. Eames had only banked on Ariadne's anger; he hadn't planned to contend with Dom and Mal to.

"Arthur." Dom smiled, happily. "It's great to see you."

"You too." Arthur nodded, walking into the room. He turned to Mal, suddenly uncertain of what to say. Eames hung back, waiting in the doorway, unsure of whether to intrude.

"Ah, my old friend is speechless." She smiled, kindly. "Has it been so long that you no longer know what to say to me, Arthur?"

Arthur smiled, sadly. "Well, we didn't exactly part on the best of terms." He leaned down to kiss her cheek. "How have you been, Mal?"

"Very well, my friend." She grinned. "The doctors changed my medication, rather than daily pills I have monthly injections now. There has been a massive improvement, and they feel I may be ready to stop the injections permanently in another six months. Apparently, they feel my 'episode' if you like, is beginning to pass."

Arthur's face lit up. "That's wonderful news!"

Mal inclined her head, her eyes suddenly containing a playful glint. "Of course, that's not my only news."

She raised her hand, and Arthur saw a sparkle glinting on her ring finger. He gasped, and thumped Dom on the shoulder, enthusiastically.

"Congratulations!" He gasped, pulling them both into a hug. "I'm so happy for you. When is the wedding?"

Dom smiled shyly. "In about six months. You'll be my best man of course?"

"_Me_?" Arthur blinked.

Everyone laughed at Arthur's surprise, and Eames' smiled from the doorway.

"Of course you!" Dom roared. "And you'll come too, Eames, of course? Why are you lurking in the doorway? Come in, join the celebration!"

He tugged Eames in the door, and the Brit stumbled in, awkwardly. His head was buzzing. How could Arthur want to come with him now? His oldest friend was getting married; Yusuf and Ariadne were all settled down together, what kind of person would Eames be if he selfishly dragged Arthur away from all of this? He felt his chest clench. He excused himself quickly, under the pretence of getting a glass of water. Arthur followed him.

"Will we be back in six months, Eames?" Arthur asked, quietly, so only the Brit could hear him.

Eames nodded, slowly. "Of course, we're on our own schedule from now on. We can come back any time you need to… I mean, provided you still want to come, that is. I would completely understand if you didn't." He added, hurriedly.

Arthur's jaw dropped. "What, you think I want to stay suddenly, because Mal's better and she and Dom are getting married? This changes _nothing_, Eames, other than that I have more to come back for when we visit."

He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Eames' lips, softly. "When are you going to realise that I'm not going _anywhere_? Not without you."

Eames just smiled tightly. "Yeah? Are you going to tell them now then, that you're running off to Paris to become an art thief, but you'll be back for their wedding?" He hissed.

Arthur glared at him. "Yes, I will. Right now, as it happens."

Eames made a grab for Arthur's arm to stop him, but Arthur avoided the lunge swiftly and stalked out of the room.

"Dom? Not to steal your thunder, but Eames and I kind of have our own announcement to make." Arthur stepped forward.

Eames shook his head from the doorway. "Not now, Arthur." He mouthed, but Arthur ignored him, turning away. Everyone looked intrigued and Arthur smiled.

"We're leaving." He said quietly. "Tomorrow."

Mal frowned. "For how long? You will be back for the wedding?"

Arthur smiled. "We'll be back for the wedding, but I'm afraid it's a permanent thing. See, I'm joining Eames' line of work, so we'll be constantly travelling."

Eames closed his eyes and counted to three, waiting for the perpetual explosion. It didn't disappointed.

"You're _what_?" Ariadne snapped. "Have you lost your mind? You're going to become a fucking thief?"

Eames opened his eyes and watched the drama unfold. He noted the slight slump in Arthur's shoulders, but other than that, there wasn't a hint of Arthur's disappointment. Eames watched the quarrel escalate, silently, for a split-second contemplating turning Yusuf's hose on them.

"I don't understand what this has to do with you, anyway." Arthur snapped.

Ariadne sneered. "No, you wouldn't understand what concern for your friends means, Arthur. Look at it from my side, you've never broken the law and suddenly you're going to become an art thief? Have you even thought this through?"

"Of course I have!" Arthur retorted. "Eames and I have been talking about this for months. Of course I've broken the law, what the fuck do you think I do for Jacques every weekend?"

The room fell silent and Arthur realised his mistake instantly. Ariadne's expression was one of intense hurt and betrayal, as was Dom's. Yusuf looked resigned, and Mal looked awkward. Arthur didn't dare look at Eames.

"Why didn't you tell us?" She asked quietly, her eyes filling with tears.

Arthur sank onto a chair, slowly. "About the assignments? Honestly, I thought you knew, and that's why you never asked about them. God, Ariadne, I could get past the White House security if I wanted to, and I've been on Homeland Security's server more times than I can count."

Ariadne nodded. "I guessed it wasn't entirely legal, but I never realised it was to that extent." She fell silent and waited for Arthur to address the other half of the question.

"I've been thinking about this for months now. The time you drove Eames to the airport without me, that was when I brought it up for the first time. He openly refused to let me work for his employers, we argued, and I told him to leave. He did." Arthur sighed and looked over at Eames, who was regarding him expressionlessly.

Arthur gestured for him to take over the explanation, and he did, noting Arthur's head dropped into his hands.

"When I arrived here for Arthur's birthday, I agreed to let him come with me, unofficially, as long as my employers didn't get wind of him. You see; even telling Arthur what I did would have immediately put a death sentence on him, never mind allowing him to come with me. If they'd found out, my employers would have killed us both."

"Would have?" Dom questioned.

Eames inclined his head. "My employers were Cobol Engineering."

Everyone gasped. They'd all read the headlines in the paper about the criminal ring and how they'd been shut down due to an anonymous tip.

"As you can see that's no longer an issue. I know that to all of you, it seems like I should be free to do what I want, now I no longer have Cobol breathing down my neck. But I worked for them because this is what I want to do. And for some reason, it's what Arthur wants to do too. I understand that you must all think I've swooped in and corrupted him, but I promise that's not been the case."

Eames looked around pleadingly. "I love Arthur, and with all my heart I wish this isn't what he wanted. That he desired a normal, boring, desk job and lived a completely risk-free life. But that's not who he is, and deep down, all of you know that. I'm not asking you to understand, but I am asking you to accept that it's his decision. I need to know he has friends to come back to, in between jobs."

Everyone looked at each other. Eames waited patiently for someone to speak up.

"Of course he does." Mal smiled, understandingly. "And you do too, Eames."

Eames blinked, and Arthur's head snapped up in amazement.

"We have not had the best start, I understand that." Mal inclined her head, sadly. "But you have shown more than once that you are good for Arthur. And, while I can only speak for myself, I know that any friend of Arthur's is a friend of mine."

Dom and Yusuf nodded their agreement at her words. Eames smiled gratefully, before turning to Ariadne.

"Of course, I understand." Ariadne whispered. "I just want to be sure that you thought this through properly. I'm just looking out for you, Arthur."

Arthur pulled her in for a hug. "I know. I've thought this through, Ari. This is what I want."

"Then you better come back to visit me very often, or else." Ariadne let out a sob, and hugged Arthur tightly.

Yusuf sidled over to Eames. "You're sure about taking him with you?" He asked quietly. "You won't let him down?"

Eames smiled, slightly. "His last assignment from Jacques drew Cobol's attention. They wanted me to find him. A few days later, Arthur gets a flight to England without telling anyone because I'm in trouble. The next day, Cobol gets shut down. You're the scientist, Yusuf, you do the maths."

"I'm a _chemist_, not a physicist." Yusuf pointed out wryly. "But I have to say, Eames, you always prove me wrong. I never give you enough credit."

"You give me far more than I deserve." Eames told him quietly. "I'll keep him safe, Yusuf."

Yusuf smiled. "I don't doubt it." He patted Eames on the back. "Take care of yourself too, friend."

Eames glanced over at Arthur to find that the American was watching him, a soft expression on his face. Eames smiled and nodded once. Everything was going to be fine.

* * *

The next day, the six of them drove out to the airport. Eames rode with Yusuf, and Ariadne drove the others after Arthur had expressly refused to let Yusuf behind the wheel.

"If you kill my boyfriend on the way to the airport, Yusuf, you need to know I will be seriously pissed." Arthur grinned, ducking as Yusuf aimed a punch at his head.

They checked in their suitcases, before Arthur and Eames returned to their waiting friends.

"Paris?" Ariadne enquired.

Eames smiled. "Just a stop along the way. Take care of yourself, little Ari."

She punched him in the arm, smiling sweetly. Eames winced. She packed a hard punch. "Not so little." She reminded him. Eames grinned and acknowledged her words. A couple of handshakes later, and Eames stepped away to give Arthur space to say goodbye to his friends. Arthur joined him a few moments later, his eyes suspiciously wet. Eames kindly decided not to point it out.

"We'll be back in time for the wedding!" Arthur promised. Eames reached out and took his hand, firmly.

"Ready?" He asked.

"Always." Arthur vowed, and they walked towards the departure lounge.

Not too long later, Arthur and Eames settled in their designated seats. They buckled their seatbelts and Eames took Arthur's hand in his, drawing his attention.

"Things are going to be different now, Arthur." He told him, seriously.

"I know. But I never had a choice in this. It was made for me the second Saito gave me that assignment." Arthur's eyes were kind. "I won't ever regret this, Eames. Stop trying to make me run."

"Bloody hell, don't even think about it! If you ran out on me now, darling, I'd have no choice but to chase after you. I'm far too in love with you to let you go so easily." Eames spluttered.

"Good. That's the way I like it."

As the plane took off, Arthur leaned over and brushed his lips against Eames', in a reassuring, chaste gesture. Eames smiled at him, and Arthur grinned wickedly as he remembered something.

"I suppose now isn't the best time to tell you that I kissed Rob?"

"_WHAT_?!"

Outside of LAX, Ariadne, Dom, Mal and Yusuf watched the plane take off. Arthur glanced down out of the window, imagining he could see his friends below, waving him off. He smiled. He would be back soon enough. Turning back to a still spluttering Eames, Arthur realised he actually couldn't be happier. He closed his eyes and reflected on everything that had brought them to where they were now. Everything that brought him to his future, with Eames.

* * *

**Yeah, that's the end! I hope you all enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing this, and please, please review and let me know either way! Thank you to everyone who persevered through the weeks without updates, and the mini-hiatus I took. Much love to you all!**


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